


Black Angel, White Angel

by Spruce_Moose (Duckyboos)



Series: The Damnation Game [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bikers, Angst, BAMF Castiel, BAMF Dean, Gun Violence, Librarian Castiel, M/M, Prison, Rough Sex, Snarky Castiel, Tattoos, Violence, mafia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-10
Updated: 2014-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-11 21:48:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 31,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1178308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duckyboos/pseuds/Spruce_Moose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"How do I know that you won't kill me?"<br/>"You don't Castiel. That's part of the fun."</p><p>With Dean currently awaiting trial in a maximum security prison for a crime that he didn't commit, Cas is the one left picking up the pieces. Things take a darker turn as more and more secrets are revealed and Castiel has to make a decision that will ultimately change his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One - Downfall

**Author's Note:**

> Fic title is a Danzig song.  
> Chapter title is a Children of Bodom song.
> 
>  
> 
> So... here we are, the beginning of the end!  
> Not gonna lie, it's looking pretty bleak right now, but I promise there will be fluff and happiness and all that shizzle.
> 
> Thank you from the bottom of my heart for all the wonderful comments etc. They've given me the confidence the whole way through and I always squee a little bit when I read them.
> 
> So, yeah. Thank you.
> 
> Warnings for mention of rape.

“Dean!”

Castiel almost ran at his boyfriend, throwing himself at the bigger man, wrapping his arms around him and burying his face in the rough cotton that he wasn’t used to, but still smelled like Dean – _his Dean_.

“Cas,” Dean sounded breathless and happy. “Baby, it’s so fucking good to see you.”

Cas was trying hard not to focus on the fact that Dean wasn’t hugging him back; unable to, due to the cuffs encircling his wrists, keeping his arms drawn together in front of his body. Instead he attempted to concentrate on finally feeling the warmth of his boyfriend against him, getting to actually touch him after what could easily be described as the worst week of his life. The only one in recent memory without Dean. Cas hadn’t properly slept since he'd been arrested; he was barely eating and judging by Dean’s colourless and drained appearance, neither was he.

“In the movies they always wear orange jumpsuits,” Cas murmured in the crook of Dean’s neck with tears in his eyes as he tightened his grip on his boyfriend, so _so_ reluctant to let him go. He wasn’t ashamed of the tears; he loved Dean with everything he had and this was so incredibly painful. He couldn’t imagine what would happen if Dean was actually convicted; though, he was pretty sure that he wouldn’t be able to live with it. Visiting the prison once a week for two measly hours, maybe getting a conjugal once a month if Dean was well behaved, was not the life he wanted for them. And it’s not like he would leave Dean – ever – but he really would consider committing an offence bad enough to get himself landed in here, despite his promise.

“Maybe they just thought red would bring out my eyes.” Dean joked smoothly and Castiel internally breathed a sigh of relief; he hadn’t lost his sense of humour.

A guard appeared next to them and snarled, “Minute is up Winchester, take a seat.”

Dean glared at the CO, but did as he was told, pulling away from the embrace and taking the opposite seat at the table from Cas. “I should be in some cushy county jail, not a fucking supermax.”

It was a conversation they’d had every day over the phone since he’d been arrested at the fête just over a week ago. In that time, Cas had had a crash course in the judicial system; Dean indeed should have been in the local jail rather than a full blown prison, especially one such as El Dorado Correctional Facility, which was not well known for its comfortable and pleasant conditions. It was apparently standard procedure for defendants to be housed in the county jail until convicted. Someone had pulled a lot of strings to land Dean in Kansas State’s main Maximum Security prison.

No prizes for guessing who.

“I’m in here with Dennis Rader for fuck’s sake!”

Castiel desperately wanted to reach across the table to grab Dean’s hand, but the pamphlet he’d been given on visitors rules and regulations said contact was restricted to the first and last minute, and really? How ridiculous was that?

Dean was a criminal; it was something Castiel had come to terms with and pretty much embraced during the course of their relationship, but he did _not_ deserve to be in this Hellhole.

“I know baby, “ Cas soothed, drinking the sight of his boyfriend in. Even with the dark circles under his eyes, the godawful prison jumpsuit and his sore-looking bitten lips, he was still so fucking handsome. “We’re doing everything we can.”

“Have we got a name for the supposed witness yet?”

Castiel winced, knowing that the answer he was about to give was the opposite of what Dean desperately needed to hear. “No. The DA won’t release it – despite Sam and Benny’s best efforts. I’m guessing that once again, the threat from the other side is a bigger one.”

“Fuck.” Dean muttered harshly, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. It made Cas’s heart ache. Despite it being his ex – with whom he had spent a good number of years – that was dead, his concern was not for Balthazar; and though he’d taken a few moments in memory of the man and was of course sad that he was dead, ultimately he was _gone_ and nothing could change that. Dean being here though? That could be rectified.

Dean had been right about Pellegrino’s motives for sending him on a run-around and making Cas ‘disappear’ for a few hours. Long and the short of it was that Dean had absolutely no alibi for that period of time; as per the text instructions – submitted to the lawyer for evidence purposes – he had gone to the barn alone. Cas had been at the Police station, so he couldn’t have lied to protect Dean, even if he had wanted to. Though that arrest had served two purposes; 1. To stop Cas giving Dean an alibi and 2. To call into question his previous given alibi i.e Theo.

Luckily it had been easy enough to disprove the murder charges for Theo as there had been no witnesses – bogus or otherwise – that stepped forward, and with no matching murder weapon, it was now beginning to look like a cold case. Though, of course, Castiel knew exactly who was responsible for his demise.

Balthazar’s murder was proving not to be so easy; apparently he’d left in a taxi the same night of the window incident, but he never made it to the airport. The taxi driver had seemingly disappeared into thin air and then Balthazar’s body was discovered a few days later, but only a few hours after he was killed, on some wasteland on the outskirts of Lawrence.

Obviously, he was killed during Dean’s ‘unaccounted time’. Ingenious really. The prosecutors had Dean’s motive – thanks to the incident at Floyd's – the apparent witness and Dean’s lack of alibi.

They were missing the murder weapon, but it was hardly necessary. All things considered it was pretty damning. And when Dean questioned what he had supposedly done with Balthazar in the few days that he’d been missing and then killed – where on Earth he’d managed to keep him where his family and friends wouldn’t have seen – the prosecution said that the barn he’d been to ‘in search of Castiel’ had traces of Balthazar’s blood in it.

It was all bullshit.

At the pre-trial, Dean hadn’t even been granted bail – another fallacy – and had been shipped straight off to this place so fast that no-one had been able to try to file a motion to stop it.

The trial date was set for another couple of months away, though Castiel knew there was no way that either of them would last that long without some kind of progress getting made.

There was nothing else to do right now though; they needed to find out who the Hell the witness was and then work out what to do from there. The irony that they would probably end up having to kill someone to free Dean of a murder charge was not one that was lost on Castiel.

_Whatever it takes._

That thought should scare him; would have done at the beginning of year, but there was no way that he wasn’t totally and irreparably involved. He knew _everything._ There was no walking away now, even if he’d had the strength in him to do so, which of course he didn’t.

Dean’s demeanour suddenly changed and he looked at Castiel properly for the first time since they’d sat down, olive green eyes sparkling with mischief. “You look good in those pants.”

Castiel cocked an eyebrow, but Dean just shot him a grin that was so utterly _Dean_ that Castiel’s lips twitched into a smile. “Dammit Dean.”

“What? I can’t perv on my boyfriend? I’m not even free enough to do that now?” It was a tone that indicated mock-hurt, but Cas was aware that Dean was struggling with his memories of being inside. Knowing exactly what Alistair had done to Cas was bad enough, but Dean being somewhere that reminded him of four years of his life that he’d worked hard to forget would have been infinitely more challenging.

He could give him this.

He sighed heavily as if it was a real hardship. “Fine, go ahead.”

“When, or _if_ I get out-“

“When.” Castiel corrected firmly. “It’s a when.”

“ _When_ I get out we are not leaving the bedroom for a week. I am going to _ruin_ you Cas.”

Castiel pretended to act indifferent, but in reality, he was already tingling with the usual anticipation that Dean always seemed to trigger in him. It was almost a Pavlovian response by now.

“Yeah?” Castiel grinned. “You think I should take some time off work?”

“Take two weeks just to be sure. I wanna be thorough.”

“You always are baby.”

“Mmm,” Dean agreed, staring straight at Cas. “Now I know how that chick from the Divinyls felt.”

Castiel frowned, genuinely lost. “I don’t understand that reference.”

Dean snorted a laugh. “Ask Sammy when you get back. I’m sure he’ll be more than _happy_ to explain it to you.”

 

***

 

Leaving the prison – leaving _Dean_ – was one of the hardest things Cas had ever done. The tears threatened to spill over, but he managed to contain the worst and hold off until he was past all the bars, automatic doors and metal detectors, only one or two escaping with a low broken sounding sob as he walked across the lot towards his bike.

_God fucking dammit, Castiel. You are stronger than this._

Sam and the others would be waiting for him at the bunker when he got back; eager to hear how Dean was – being as he refused any visits from anyone other than Cas; not wanting to miss even a single second with him – but all Castiel wanted to do was crawl into their shared bed and sleep until Dean walked back through the door all smiles and then fucked him into the mattress.

Castiel was just straddling his bike, ready to leave when he heard a soft voice behind him.

"Mr Novak?"

“Er yeah?” He quickly wiped his eyes on the back of his sleeve, turned around and there was Dean’s lawyer; Mara Daniels – a pretty blond women in a smart matching black skirt and blazer, who looked like she shouldn’t be going anywhere a prison like this – holding a brown leather satchel in one delicate hand, a cup of coffee in the other.

She smiled genially, “I’m just going in for my consultation with Dean. How’s he doing today?”

“He’s not okay, but as usual he’s covering it well.” Cas gave her a rueful smile. He knew Dean Winchester better than he knew himself most of the time and for all of his bravado, deep down he was scared. Understandably so. “He could do with some good news. Anything?”

“We’ve still had no luck on tracing the origin of the text message that he was sent. And there were no fingerprints on the photograph other than Dean’s.”

Castiel shook his head. This was so fucking stupid.

“Their whole case hinges on this goddamn witness.”

“Mhm,” She agreed, eyebrows drawn together, regarding Castiel with concern. “Are you getting any sleep Castiel? You’re no good to Dean tired and-“

“I’m no fucking good to Dean anyway!” He threw his helmet across the parking lot in a fit of exasperation. Over a week without being able to just lie in bed and talk to Dean, without being able to give him grief about waking him up when he came home late. He never thought he’d miss the silly little things his stupid asshole boyfriend did, but they were the worst and it was absolute Hell not knowing if he was ever going to get to do them again. Cas would never complain. “There’s literally nothing I can do, I feel so fucking helpless.” He dropped his chin to his chest and concentrated on holding the tears at bay. Again.

Mara stepped forward tentatively as if approaching a wild animal who could lash out at any second. She laid her satchel down on the ground and then gently patted the back of Dean’s leather jacket that Cas had taken to wearing in a vain effort to be close to him.

“You are helping Castiel. I bet seeing you today made him happy.”

“Him being free would make both of us happy. You might wanna work on that.” He snapped and immediately regretted it. “Shit.” He lifted his head to look at her. “I’m sorry, it’s been a really hard week and seeing him in there-“

She held up her hand to cut him off with a soft smile on her face. “It’s okay, I understand how difficult it must be for you both. I promise you that I will do everything I can to make sure Dean is acquitted.” She stepped away and bent back down for her bag.

“That’s all we can ask for.” Castiel gave her a tight smile when she straightened back up. “Thanks.”

***

 

A heavy hand on Dean’s shoulder shoved him down into the leather chair in the warden’s ridiculously fancy, ornate office and Dean barely kept his glower to himself. The guards in this place weren’t particularly decent to _any_ of the inmates, but he got the impression that they were being especially punitive _just_ for him.

“Ah, Mr Winchester. Two visits in one day. Very popular. Tell me, how did they go?”

The asshole Warden – who had taken great pleasure in giving Dean a run-down of what he could expect at the prison on the first day of his arrival, (which involved other Inmates, incarcerated Angel members mainly, getting together in the laundry room and beating the shit out of him) – appeared from a side-door to the left and perched on the edge of his large redwood rectangular desk, which was way too neat. Like it was never used; just for show. He brushed at his trouser leg with the back of his hand, brown eyes watching Dean intently for any reactions.

Dean had made a point of not telling Cas about his previous meeting with the Warden. He’d only worry and Dean was already concerned enough for him at it was. The first episode in the laundry room had been tame by all accounts anyway; a couple of feeble body shots, but he knew that they were just getting warmed up and he still had months to go before the trial. A trial that he had no idea on the outcome of.

“Fine.” Dean gritted his teeth. This asshole made his skin crawl. There was something sinister about him; with his snappy suits and clean-cut politician look. Dean may have been a criminal, but this dude was just _immoral._

“He’s quite the attractive man isn’t he? Your little Castiel?”

Dean knew the bastard was saying anything he could think of just to get a rise out of him, but where Cas was concerned, he was almost completely unable to stop himself from reacting. They could beat the shit out of him until the end of time, as long as they didn’t even _think_ about Cas.

Dean kept quiet, silently willing himself to stay calm.

“Maybe I should ask my pal Nick if he could frame him again; this time for something better. Something that would end up with him in here. I’m sure a lot of the men would love to get their hands on him. Pass him around like a party favour.”

Dean screwed his eyes shut and clenched his hands into fists in his lap. The gesture didn’t go unnoticed by Dick Roman. Which was such an appropriate name for the bastard that Dean didn’t even know where to start.

“Ah yes. You know what that’s like, don’t you? Pretty boy like you, I’ve heard the stories about Alistair. How you used to struggle. Acting as if you didn’t want it.”

In the five years since his release, Dean had worked hard to forget about the things he’d been subjected to at the hands of Alistair; the beatings, the torture, the rape. Just as he’d been getting better, the thing with the Angels had happened and now this. Though, strangely enough, being confronted by the man himself hadn’t been anywhere near as triggering as being back inside was. That first night that the bars had slammed shut, he’d curled up on his bunk and bitten his bottom lip bloody and raw in an attempt to stem the flow of tears that threatened to spill over whenever he heard Alistair’s laughter in his mind.

He kept telling himself that if he carried on being weak and pathetic, he’d become an easy target; end up losing the battle, and that had made it easier for him to reset himself to his default  of cocky outlaw with nothing to lose and everything to gain. He could be a little bitch when there was nobody around who needed to be shown that he wasn’t intimidated by them.

“Come on Dean, it’s no fun if I’m playing alone here.”

Dean’s eyes fluttered open and a corner of his mouth tipped up in a smirk. He could do this. He could fake the nonchalance. He was going to get out. It was going to be okay; he just needed to keep it together in front of all the bastards doing their best to break him. He’d done it once, what was once more? “What would you like me to say Warden?” His voice was all sweetness and sarcasm. “That your ties get more obnoxious every time I see you? Because I think we both know that.”

Roman flashed what may have been the creepiest smile that Dean had ever been witness to, before he pushed himself off the desk and walked over to Dean, stopping a few feet in front of him.

_Who keeps their shoes that fuckin’ shiny?_

“You should probably preserve that sense of humour Dean, because you’re going to be in here for a very long time and it’s going to get pretty hairy for you. The Angels want their pound of flesh, and I’m inclined to give it to them.”

Dean’s self-assured smirk widened and he gave the Warden his best cocky wink.

“Give me your best fucking shot.”


	2. Chapter Two - Only For The Weak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is an In Flames song
> 
>  
> 
> So this chapter is pretty dark and violent. Both Dean and Cas are a bit BAMF-y in this.  
> Also, warnings for allusions to rape.

Castiel was expecting the guys to be waiting for him down in the bunker when he returned, full of questions, to which either he would have no answers or ones that they wouldn’t like.

So he definitely _wasn’t_ expecting the whole place to be in a state of chaos, under siege from an MC whose patch he was sure he’d seen before, but he couldn’t place where. Either way, as soon as he cut the engine, he was jumping off his Harley, pulling Dean’s revolver out of the inner pocket of his jacket and keeping an eye out for anyone who wasn’t LMC.

He darted across the driveway and onto the grass and was just nearing the set of patio doors that faced onto the side lawn, when he heard his name over the intermittent gunfire blasts.

“Cas!” Sam was calling him from his position of cover inside the open glass doors, beckoning frantically for Castiel to come over to him. But Cas was having none of it as he moved smoothly past Sam and along the same span of wall towards where the majority of the shooting was coming from. He crouched down and listened carefully for footsteps and gun shots. Neither seemed to be coming any closer, so he rose and swallowed hard, trying to remember what Dean had taught him about handling a firearm.

_Trigger guard, not trigger. Deep breaths, focus._

A huge guy who was probably at least three of Castiel suddenly barrelled around the corner about ten feet in front of him and Castiel didn’t even think, he pointed the gun at the guy’s head, closed his eyes and squeezed the trigger.

There was the kick of the gun, a loud cracking noise and then a low grunt and the sound of a body hitting the deck. When Castiel winked one eye open, he saw that his shot had hit the behemoth directly between the eyes.

“Holy fucking shit.” Sam was suddenly there behind him, peering over his shoulder. “Why the fuck was Dean not allowing you to help us out before? I thought I was a good shot man, but Jesus Cas! You are in a league of your own!” He roughly clapped Cas on the shoulder, causing the smaller man to stumble a little, and brushed past him to inspect the body.

“One of Pellegrino’s men?” Cas asked shakily, finally finding his voice.

_Holy shit, I just killed someone._

“Yeah, the whole bastard lot are. Come on.” He signalled for Cas to follow him, jerking his gun to the left and Castiel followed, not daring to look down as he stepped over the body of the man he had just killed.

_Holy fucking shit, I just fucking killed someone!_

He dropped down behind Sam who was hunkered down at the edge of the house, trying to see into the back yard. “What do they want?”

“Fuck knows.” Sam replied, peeking around the corner. “Maybe to just cause us more grief. That seems to be Pellegrino’s MO right now.”

Castiel nodded, then realising Sam couldn’t see it, said, “Yeah.” He brain wasn’t really firing on all cylinders so his communications skills were right there alongside that of a lamp. For some reason this felt scarier, more real than all the other times that similar things had happened; probably because Dean had done his damndest to shield Cas from the worst of it. He was suddenly grateful for his boyfriend’s ridiculous protectiveness, because if something like this had happened much sooner then he wasn't sure that he would have been as okay with it as he was. Sure, he was feeling wobbly and struggling to maintain his breathing at an even pace, but that didn’t mean-

“Oh shit,” Sam turned around and was looking at Cas, big eyes filled with concern. “Cas, Cas man, it’s okay. Don’t faint dude.”

The combination of lack of sleep, lack of food, the stress of seeing Dean again and the fact that he’d just shot someone between the eyes with nothing more than a vague aim and a prayer finally caught up to him in one big rush of boneless exhaustion, and the black started to creep in around the edges of his vision.

_Of all the damn times to pass out…_

“Cas!” Sam backhanded him so hard that it sounded like the crack of a gun being fired, and as a guy who had been inches away from shooting Sam – who was swaying out of Castiel’s focus – toppled over, he realised it _had_ been the crack of a gun. It had been _him._

_Another one bites the dust._

Everything seemed to speed back up, like something out of a sci-fi movie and Sam was shouting in his face, gripping the lapels of his jacket. “Cas! Cas man, that was fucking amazing! Come on dude, don’t let it pull you under, we need you!”

Castiel swallowed hard. His vision was still swimming, but he managed a small nod. He had never wished more in his entire life that Dean was here. And that reminded him. Inappropriate timing, but he needed to know.

“Sam?”

Dean’s brother visibly relaxed now that Cas was managing to form words again. “Yeah Cas, it’s okay.” He turned towards the sound of the gunfire, his back to Castiel. “We’ve just gotta get rid of the last few.”

“Does something called the Divinyls mean anything to you?”

Sam side-eyed him, screwing up his face. “What?” He looked away again, pulling the trigger on his gun and then his expression smoothed into a triumphant smile when it apparently hit the desired mark.

“The Divinyls. What is it? Dean said to me that you’d be happy to tell me?”

“They’re a band.” He fired off another shot and then glanced at Cas quickly. “Are you sure you’re okay man?”

“Yeah,” Cas persisted. “He said, ‘Now I know how that chick from the Divinyls felt.”’

Sam snorted a laugh. “Oh God. I feel wrong for just having this conversation with my brother’s boyfriend, but they did a song called ‘I Touch Myself’, so it doesn’t take a genius to work out what the dirty bastard was getting at.”

Castiel furrowed his brow in confusion; what?

Oh. _Oh._

Even amidst the flying bullets and blood, he didn’t even try to fight the smile that threatened to split his face in two.

***

Today there were four of the assholes; last time there had only been three. Did that mean that the sick fucking warden was going to ratchet up the numbers every week until the whole prison was lining up for a piece of him?

The meatiest one stepped forward, eyeing Dean up and down, making no attempt at hiding the lust in his piggy eyes. “Well, the boss told me that you were pretty, but holy Hell.”

Dean felt the familiar tightness in his spine at the prospect of what these bastards might do. “Waaaay out of your league, fatso.”

“Well, we’ll see about that, won’t we?” A slimmer one with a scar across his left eye and a lop-sided grin said, flipping a sharpened toothbrush handle between his fingers.

Dean could hold his own in most fights. And against two - even three - he would often come out on top, but unarmed with four guys who had no issues with stabbing him with fucking toothbrushes? Well the odds weren’t looking too good.

“Let’s just fucking do this.” Dean growled, all bravado, desperately trying to hide the nausea and fear roiling in his gut. “I hear the cafeteria is serving more shit for dinner and I don’t wanna miss that.”

“Funny too.” The third, greying one said pointlessly.

They all rushed him at once and Dean held his stance, arms down by his sides, hands balled into fists. The fat guy got to him first, swinging a meaty fist, but it was clunky and Dean easily evaded, gripping his forearm, twisting it downwards and bringing his knee into contact with the assholes bulbous nose. The guy let out a sound like a pig – appropriately – and fell to the floor.

Unfortunately, in the time it had taken to perform that manoeuvre, two of the remaining three had got behind him and were now pulling his arms behind his back painfully. The last one who was yet to speak, strutted up to him like he was a fucking Lord of the manor, a cat-that-ate-the-canary grin on his face. His fist caught Dean in the abdomen, knocking his breath away for a few moments, leaving him winded. “Well, that was pretty feeble, wasn’t it boys? He got the fattest one. Round of applause Dean.” He stepped into Dean’s space, cupping – and then squeezing – Dean’s jaw in one surprisingly strong hand.

It fucking hurt, but Dean just stared the bastard down. The man’s eyes were grey; hard as steel and his whole face looked pinched, like somebody had squeezed all the fat out of it. That fucking smug smile had to go though.

Dean sent a powerful kick upwards, aiming for the man’s groin. It was a direct hit and he smirked as the asshole bent over, howling. “Yeah fucking right. Feeble my ass.”

The two behind tightened their grip. “We can hold you here all day Winchester. They’ll get back up again. And when they do, you’ll be in for it.”

Dean pitched his full body weight to the left as hard as he could; if their hold on him was as tight as it felt, then they’d have no choice but to go with him. It worked and they stumbled and loosened their grasp. Enough to yank his arms free. He staggered away, tripping over fatso, but managing to catch himself with his hands flat on the stone floor, avoiding face-planting the ground. However, it did give him the opportunity to lift the unconscious guy’s blade and so he plucked it from between chubby fingers.

He scrambled to his feet, weapon in hand, whirling around to find that Canary-grin was still gasping for breath, but slowly recovering and the other two were advancing on him as he backed into a corner. “Well, that was kind of impressive, but come on; you can’t take all of us on and expect to win.”

_‘You’re Dean fucking Winchester. You’re my strong badass biker, so I know you can deal with this and get on with business, because that’s what you do.’_

He flicked his gaze around the small area adjacent to the laundry room, desperately searching for any way of defending himself, because stabbing someone was all well and good, as long as they couldn’t get you back. At least not enough to kill. His eyes lit up and he grinned when he found something that was utterly _perfect_. Let it never be said that Dean Winchester wasn’t resourceful. There were metal tables to the right of him – in the entrance of the laundry room – piled high with freshly laundered scrubs and jump suits. He lunged for them, grabbing several of the garments and swathed his left forearm with them tightly, in a makeshift shield.

_Bring it on fuckers._

“Oh, but that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

***

When the guards finally burst in a good ten minutes later, Dean was just watching the light dimming behind Canary-grin’s eyes as he tightened the ligature around his neck. He pressed in closer despite the CO’s yelling at him to stop; determined for this prick to die by his hand, wanting his face to be the last thing that the cunt ever saw. It was grim as fuck, but when the warden had pushed him into defending himself, then what the Hell did they expect?  He had to create a reputation that he wasn’t to be fucked with, and taking on four guys unarmed and coming out the victor? Well, that was the shit dreams were made of, right there.

The bodies of the other three were surrounded by dark pools of red that were rapidly amalgamating in the middle of the stone floor; grey-hair and scar-face with their bloody shivs still clutched in their lifeless hands.

Dean had a couple of corresponding stab wounds on his torso and back, and whilst they were deep enough to hurt like a motherfucker, they hadn’t managed to get anything major and he wasn’t gonna bleed out any time soon. Canary-grin’s eyelids fluttered closed and Dean finally stepped back, letting the body fall to the floor like a bag of potatoes, with the red scrub top wound around his neck like a macabre scarf.

“Winchester!” He felt a strong forearm thrown across his throat and then he was being dragged backwards forcefully with absolutely no care given to his welfare; not that he would have expected otherwise.

“You’re in deep shit Winchester,” The guard warned as Dean struggled against the hold around his neck. Another officer wrenched the weapon from between his slick bloody fingers and Dean pre-emptively tensed, waiting for the blade to be pushed into his stomach or somewhere equally painful, but it never came. Instead, the guard pulled his free hand back into a fist and Dean’s head snapped sharply to the side when the blow connected with his cheek.

He laughed. “Like I give a fuck.”

_‘You’re made of tougher stuff, baby.’_

He spat out a wad of his own blood.

Another hit.

He grinned maniacally, showing blood-stained teeth. “Do what you want. Doesn’t change the fact that I still fucking won.”

 

***

 

The clean-up was definitely the worst part; burning the bodies and lying to the police. Although Cas had little regard for the officers of Lawrence PD anymore, he still felt uncomfortable with the whole situation. And then there was the smell. Again, Dean had always insisted that Cas steer well clear when they burned bodies; He had thought it was to protect his innocence, but in reality it was to keep him free of the smell of burning flesh, which was one that no matter how many showers he had, he’d never be able to wash off himself.

Unfortunately, a couple of the bastards had got away after realising that they were losing a lot more lives than they were taking. Thanks mainly in part to the LMC’s secret weapon  it would appear. He was now sitting in their ensuite bathroom, back against the wall taking deep breaths. He’d run up here in a bit of a panic thinking that he was going to be sick.

It was wussy really, all things considered. Dean did this pretty much every day of his life, and Castiel had even shot someone before, but killing someone? That was such a completely different experience that a new level of detachment was required. And he’d get there, but right now, the shock was still reverberating through to his bones.

With shaking hands, Castiel scrolled through the numbers stored in Sam’s phone until he got to the one he was after. He’d asked to borrow it saying that his battery was flat, but in reality he just needed it for this one cell number.

He stared at the screen until the power-saver feature kicked in and it went dark. Was he really considering this?

He had never needed Dean more than he did right now. He’d never realised just how much shit Dean had shielded him from and now being exposed to it was making him desperate to forget about what he'd done, forget himself, forget everything except the taste and feeling of _Dean_.

_Fuck yes._

He unlocked the screen again and pressed Call before he could change his mind.

After a couple of rings, a brusque British voice answered. “Bullwinkle, what can I do for you?”

“Mr Crowley?”

There was a small confused pause whilst Crowley tried to place the voice who was distinctly _not_ Sam Winchester.

“Who is this?”

“I’m Castiel, Dean’s boyfriend.”

“Ah!” His voice sparked with recognition. “Blue eyes. I believe last time we met you were pulling your darling off your ex-darling. Who is now dead. Because of your current darling. It all sounds like a pickle to me.”

Dean had mentioned Crowley a few times in the context of full disclosure and every time, Dean’s voice held a hint of irritation and now he could see why. The guy clearly loved the sound of his own voice.

“We both know that he didn’t do it.”

“I know no such thing. Did he tell you about killing one of my men?”

“Yes,” Castiel gritted his teeth. Talk about victim complex. “He also told me _why._ ”

“Touché. What can I do you for cheekbones?”

“I need you to get me a meeting with Nick Pellegrino.”

There was dead silence at the other end.

Castiel pulled the phone away from his ear to check that the call was still connected. Yep.

“Hello?” He tried, breathing a sigh of relief when he heard the sound of rustling at the other end.

“Why would you want that?”

“Are you this stupid around Dean because I’m beginning to understand his desire to kill you.”

He huffed out an amused laugh. “Spunky, I like that.”

Castiel remained silent.

“I can’t Castiel, I don’t know if Dean has told you-“

“He’s told me all about you going undercover, yes.”

“Well, then you’ll understand why I can’t. If he finds out that I’ve been talking to you, then he’ll know that you know about his deal with me. Can’t risk it.”

“I’ll make it worth your while.” He was reluctant to use Dean’s money. Despite his insistence that it was ‘their’ money, ‘as in joint Cas, y’know. The whole partnership thing’. But he still had most of the money from the sale of his house. He had no use for it.

“Worth my life? Because if Dean finds out about this then I’m done for and if Pellegrino finds out, then I’m double done for.”

“$150,000?” Cas said casually. It used to be a lot of money; Hell, still was, but Dean made that in a couple of months usually. It wasn’t anything to get flustered about.

Another pause. “Bloody Hell. You don’t fuck about, do you?”

“Will you do it or not?”

“Give me a bit of time to see what I can do, okay? Give me your number so I can reach you instead of the moose.”

Castiel did and Crowley repeated it back to him. “Right. I’ll try to let you know within the week.”

“That long?”

“It all depends on where Pellegrino is. He has lots of burners so I need to find out what he’s using etc.”

“Burners?”

He chuckled softly. “Ask your criminal boyfriend. If I get you this meeting, you’re going to need a crash course.”


	3. Chapter Three - Say Just Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is a Paradise Lost song.
> 
> So, we finally get to meet Nick!   
> Chapter is entirely from Cas's POV and it's all still pretty dark. Some plotty things explained and some new avenues opened.
> 
> Thank you again for the comments, kudos and bookmarks!

The next time Castiel saw Dean, he didn’t run at him, instead he stopped dead in the middle of the visitor’s hall, hand clasped over his mouth in abject horror. Dean's face was a patchwork of new and healing bruises; smudges of browns and purples.

He tentatively approached his boyfriend and reached up to stroke his discoloured face with his thumb, running across the harsh stubble that was threatening to turn into a beard within a few more days.

Dean looked awkward and apologetic. “Sorry Cas. I didn’t want you to see me like this, but I needed the weekly visit. It’s the only thing keeping me sane.” He said it half-jokingly, but Castiel could see the pain masked in the depths of his green eyes and he swore that he actually heard his own heart breaking. Jesus fucking Christ.

“Who did this to you?” His fingers ghosted lightly over the faded bruise around his left eye.

“There are a lot of disgruntled Angels in here, baby.”

That was all that needed to be said.

“And the warden just lets it happen?”

Dean smiled softly, wincing a little at the pain the action caused. “He’s the one who arranges it.”

Castiel let that sink in for a second. “My fucking God Dean. We’ve gotta get you out of here.”

Dean snorted. “Ain’t that the truth.”

At the guard's instruction, they took their seats opposite each other, but Castiel couldn’t tear his eyes away from Dean; away from the cuts and bruises marring his handsome face.

“Cas, I’m fine, honest. The four who tried to take me got it a lot worse. This was mostly the guards doing.”

Castiel didn’t even know where to start with that sentence, so he opted for, “Four? Worse how? And holy shit, the guards did that? When was this?”

“Yes four. I killed all of them. Yes, they did. One of them is standing right over there.” He pointed to one of the CO’s that had been so polite to Castiel at the metal detector, now standing guard further on down the visitor’s hall. “And it was last week after my visits from you and the lawyer.” He flashed a rueful smile. “Somewhat of a Sunday tradition now. Though it doesn't stop them the rest of the time either."

He was so blasé about it; like it didn’t even matter, and Castiel kind of got it. Dean had to be this way, compartmentalise stuff so that he could focus on staying alive; it was a skill that Castiel himself was just getting a handle on after the incident last week.

And then there was the matter of Dean admitting to killing four people. It was strange, because Castiel didn’t feel anything other than a weird sense of pride. Reconciling the man who made dirty jokes about virtually anything and was an octopus cuddler with the man sat in front of him, who went in against four inmates and came out on top is something that he didn’t seem to have an issue with doing these days.

“Jesus fucking Christ Dean.”

Dean lifted a shoulder in a helpless, slightly defensive shrug. “I’ve gotta show them that I’m not scared-“

“No, I get it.” He really did. “I’m fucking _proud_ of you.” And he was; he really was. It took guts and bravery to be able to go into a fight not knowing if you were going to win. That was the definition of courage; at least in Cas’s opinion anyway, and Dean had it in fucking spades.

Dean raised a sceptical eyebrow. “Wanna repeat that Cas? I think I still have some blood in my ear.”

Castiel smiled crookedly. “I’m proud of you, asshole. What did you think I was gonna say?”

“I don’t know.” Dean admitted, slightly doleful. “I know you struggle with that whole side of the life.”

Castiel scoffed. “Not as much as you may think.”

“What?" Dean was suddenly on high alert. "What’s happened?”

“After my visit last week, I got back, there was an attack on the house and bunker. Pellegrino’s guys.”

“Fuck. Is everyone okay?”

“Chuck is in hospital, other than that a few wounds.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, we managed to chase the ones that weren’t killed, away. Not heard a peep since.”

Dean paused for a moment, his fingers scraping over the stubble on his chin, thinking. “Wait, _we_?”

“Yeah,” Cas said, eyes down on the table, staring at the scratches carved into the plastic. “I kind of helped. Was the cavalry actually.”

“What?” Dean sounded amused rather than angry, so encouraged, Cas carried on.

“Well, you know I’m kind of a good shot?” At Dean’s emphatic nod, he continued. “I may have killed five guys without needing to reload your Colt.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “Holy fucking shit Cas. Chest shots?”

“Mainly head.”

Dean was silent.

Cas finally looked up properly, worried that Dean was going to be angry with him. His eyes were dark and his breathing had quickened. It almost looked like he was… turned on?

“Holy fuck, Cas. I have never wanted you as bad as I do right now.”

Castiel squirmed in his seat, relishing the heat of Dean’s words. “You’re not mad?”

“Why would I be?” He looked utterly baffled as if he really couldn’t think of any reason that he’d be angry with Castiel kicking ass with a gun.

“Well you’ve always wanted me to keep away from weapons and this stuff.”

“Yeah, because I didn’t want you getting hurt. I wanted you to have some semblance of normality. I didn’t want you to become like me-“

“Why the fuck not? You’re amazing Dean. Don’t you get it? Since the first time I fucking saw you, all I’ve ever wanted is to be the perfect partner for you.”

“You already were.”

“Maybe, but now we’re quite literally partners in crime. Two broken halves of a very fucked up whole.”

Dean laughed his beautiful laugh; the one that Castiel had fallen in love with instantly. “Very romantic Cas.”

“I know, right? Wanna hold hands and get some ice cream?”

Dean leaned across the table, cuffs dragging against the smooth surface, and said in a low, sultry voice, “Only if I can eat it off you.”

“Sticky and impractical, but I suppose I could allow it.”

Dean grinned and sat back again. “So, my little master criminal, got any ideas on how to bust me out of this joint?”

“I’m working on it, baby.”

 

***

Cas was lying on the couch, loosely watching a random movie of Dean’s that he’d picked out from the thousand or so strong collection, when his phone buzzed on the coffee table. He’d been waiting for Crowley to get in touch for a full week now, and so he was pretty relieved when he saw who the sender was.

**Crowley:** **Blue eyes, as it happens, Nicky asked me to find out your number before I could get his for you. Seems he was impressed with your weapon handling skills (take that however you want, personally I like to think it’s both). He’ll get in touch soon. No payment necessary.**

**Received: 16:03**

First of all, why was Pellegrino interested in him? And secondly, Crowley didn’t want paying? At all? That in and of itself was suspicious.

He stared at his phone for a few minutes, wondering what to do with that information, when the screen lit up again, this time with a call from an unknown number.

_That was quick._

“Hello?”

The voice at the other end was surprisingly soft. “Hello Castiel. It’s good to put a voice to the name.”

“I wish I could say the same. Who is this?” Even though he already had a perfectly good idea.

“Nick Pellegrino. You may have heard of me.”

Castiel resisted the urge to laugh. “Yeah, I may have heard the name mentioned.”

“I’ll get straight to the point Castiel. I would like to meet with you to discuss a business proposition. Can you get to Wichita tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Good, come unarmed otherwise your weapons will be confiscated at the door and you won’t get them back.”

“How do I know that you won’t kill me?”

“You don’t Castiel. That’s part of the fun.”

***

The place was far from the grungy, mouldy-smelling Hellhole that Castiel had been imagining. In fact, it was the complete opposite; all clean shiny floors, potted plants housed in a respectable office-type building. Organised crime stuff. It quite clearly wasn’t where Sam and Dean had been when they’d dropped off the drugs, because Dean said that that place had been a proper dive and Pellegrino himself had been dressed in tatty clothes, looking every inch a drug dealer.

Another clever move on Pellegrino’s part.

Castiel glanced around nervously, waiting for the elevator to reach the lot so he could get to the sixteenth floor. Did Pellegrino own the whole building?

The elevator doors dinged open and he stepped inside, feeling something akin to apprehension going to war with pure fear crackling under his skin, giving him goosebumps and he had to clench his jaw hard to stop his teeth chattering. He pushed the button and tried to school himself into standing still, but he kept jingling his bike keys in his pocket and tapping his foot nervously to the muzak. Though, he had absolutely no idea what the tune was; it was just in one ear and then out the other.

_I’m doing this for Dean. Two broken halves of a fucked-up whole._

He smiled remembering Dean’s reaction at the prison earlier; it had been two weeks since they’d done anything other than a quick peck and hug and it was obviously getting to Dean in the same way it was Cas. He needed Dean inside him in every way like he needed air and he kept telling himself that over and over as he neared the sixteenth floor. No matter the outcome, he was doing this for Dean; the man he loved so completely, that it kind of scared him sometimes because it lead to situations like his current one.

When he stepped out, the first thing he noticed was the huge chandelier in the hallway. It just seemed decadent and so completely unnecessary. The second, was the two large wooden doors to the left opposite Castiel, and they opened as he approached tentatively, feeling awfully out of place in his scruffy jeans and Dean’s biker jacket.

Seated at the ridiculously long table that was situated in the middle of the large room, was a handsome man with smart blond hair, dressed in a crisp white suit – minus a tie, hands folded casually on top of the polished wood. His sharp blue eyes watched Castiel coolly and with a carefully guarded interest.

“Good evening Castiel.” He rose from his seat and sidled towards Castiel, hands in his trouser pockets. “Thank you for coming at such short notice.”

Castiel just nodded, unsure of what to say.

“Do you know where you are?”

“Wichita?” Castiel offered, trying his best to tamp down the sarcasm and not one hundred per cent sure he succeeded.

The other man threw his head back and laughed. “Yes. Well, I’m glad you’re aware of that. That’s a good start.”

“Other than that, no.”

“This is the Angels headquarters.”

_What?_

“I thou-“ His throat was so dry. He coughed and tried again. “I thought that the Angels went down when Zachariah died.”

Something venomous sparked behind the man’s eyes and as quickly as it appeared, it was gone again. “Zachairah was not the leader of the Angels, contrary to popular belief.” He ran a hand over the back of one of the leather chairs, as Castiel internally freaked out; Pellegrino was the real leader of the Angels? Holy shit. In fact, that hardly did the situation justice; not enough fucks. Holy fucking fuck shit fuck.

“What was he then?” He croaked, slightly ashamed of how he was struggling to keep his cool in this asshole’s presence. It was hard though, when the man was so composed and positively oozed power and control.

“Zachariah was more like a Capo. He was in charge of Chicago, until I brought Alistair out of prison a few months back.”

The fear Castiel felt turning his spine to ice was more than enough to stop him from making some kind of Godfather quip.

“And you are?”

“I’m Nick, the Capo dei Capi.” He stuck his hand out for a handshake as if he and Cas were old pals.

_Oh my fucking God! I am **in** the fucking Godfather!_

Undoubtedly, Dean really would be making some kind of smartass joke right about now; not caring who he was facing, but Castiel wasn’t that ballsy.

_Or suicidal._

Nick continued to stare at Castiel, clearly waiting for something. Oh yeah, the handshake. He slid his sweaty palm into Nick’s cool one and flinched a little when the grip tightened.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you at last Castiel. And these hands. I’ve heard plenty about what they’re capable of.”

He released his hand and stepped back slightly, giving him one last once over and then seemingly happy with his findings, he turned away and began striding across the patterned carpet to the lavish looking drinks cabinet. He picked up a clear decanter with about four inches of an amber liquid in the bottom and looked over his shoulder at Castiel.

“Take a seat, Castiel. Whisky okay with you?”

Castiel grabbed one of the chairs nearest the door and quickly thumped down into it before his legs had a chance to give out from underneath him like Bambi on ice.

“Er, yeah.” But Nick hadn’t been waiting for his answer; he was already on his way over, a crystal glass materializing on the table in front of Castiel and then he was taking the seat next to him; rather than the one at the head of the table like Cas had hoped he would.

“I’m sorry, did you say that you got Alistair out of prison?” He was probably being a little slow right now, what with that conversation having happened a good five minutes ago, but it was so damned cold in this building and it had taken him until just that second to notice. It was obviously having an effect on his cerebral capacity.

Amusement danced in his blue eyes as he took a sip of his whisky. “Yes. I’ve managed to put Dean _in_ prison; did you not think I had the power to _remove_ people too?”

“But why?”

“The Winchesters and I go back a long way, whether they realise it or not.” He sounded slightly bitter and his tone was positively sub-zero. “They’re like cockroaches. No matter how hard I try to crush them, they seem to always bounce back. It’s become somewhat of a hobby of mine to try and destroy them without outright killing them.”

Castiel couldn’t actually believe it; Dean’s life was fun to this sick fuck.

He was incredulous, forgetting his fear for a stupid, crazy moment. “You like fucking around with people because you can?”

Nick grinned. “That’s what separates low-level criminals such as your boyfriend, from true villains. Criminals do things for a reason like money or territory, but villains do things just because they feel like it and because they’re _just_ that powerful.”

“By that notion, your Capo would have been a low-level criminal then.”

“Yes,” Nick agreed. “And look, he’s no longer alive.”

“You _wanted_ him dead?” Castiel asked doubtfully.

“Not especially. But I’m not sorry he’s gone. He always had ideas above his station and he was far too greedy. Alistair on the other hand.” He sucked in a breath. “Now, he was my favourite.”

Castiel felt sick. Here he was with the bastard that was responsible for pretty much every bad thing that had ever befallen Dean and –in the last 8 months – Castiel too, and he was calmly talking about it as if he were discussing fashion tips.

“Alistair was a sick fuck.” Castiel stated bluntly, downing his whisky in one and slamming the glass down onto the table, enjoying the burn easing down his throat. He needed to ground himself, before he lost his grip on reality in this insane situation.

_I’m doing this for Dean. Two broken halves of a fucked-up whole._

It was becoming somewhat of a mantra.

“Agreed. But he was very good at his job. I don’t need to see your physical scars from him; the psychological ones he left are visible a mile off. As are Dean’s. Especially now that he’s back inside.”

“Why do that? Why put Dean in prison?”

“He killed Alistair.” He replied simply, as if it were obvious.

“Alistair would have killed me.”

“Yes, but you mean nothing to me, so why should I care? Though, admittedly, I am hoping to change that today.”

Castiel ignored the last part of the sentence; instead choosing to ask, “Okay, so if you’re playing it like that, then why would you bring Alistair out of prison? For the sole purpose of going after Dean?”

“Yes. Dean reopened up some old wounds and I was feeling bitter.”

Jesus Christ, what the Hell had Dean done?

“What could possibly justify you setting that _animal_ on Dean again?”

“He was rather brutal towards a friend’s son. The night you met him actually. I believe he told me that you fainted. It’s quite the change to see you like this in front of me now.”

Castiel frantically thought back to that night. The guy who Dean had kneecapped. The fuck was his name?

“Tom.” Nick supplied, as if reading his mind. “He was doing a bit of recon for me on the Winchesters and their little gang.”

_‘How many times man? How many times are you gonna get involved in our shit? How many times am I gonna let you get away just so that you can come back and try infect us in some other way?’_

“Holy fucking shit.” Castiel mumbled.

“I made a promise to my friend that I would always keep an eye for his son. It was time to put Dean back in his place.”

“Whose son was he?”

Nick flashed his teeth in a way that was neither a snarl nor a smile, but something altogether entirely unsettling. “It doesn’t matter.” He downed the rest of his drink and set the tumbler carefully on the table. He turned to Castiel again, cool disaffection in place.

“What does matter is what I want from you.”

“What?” Castiel spluttered. “After telling me that you have systematically ruined the life of the man I love, you think I’m going to do anything for you?”

Nick shrugged. “It’s up to you. But if you love Dean half as much as you seem to think you do, then you’ll at least hear me out.” At Castiel’s hesitance, he added, “I want you, Castiel.”

Cas immediately balked, assuming the worst. “No fucking way.”

“I don’t mean like that.” Nick looked amused again. “Dean took away my best man. You’re excellent with a gun. It’s only logical.”

_What?_

“Let me get this straight. You want me to become a fucking  hitman for you? You do know that I’m a librarian who doesn’t actually make a habit of killing people, right? In fact, your men were the first people I’d ever killed.”

“I’m aware, yes.”

“Well then, why me? I mean,I get that I’m good with a gun, sure. But there are plenty of more experienced people out there who would do a better job.”

“But I’m not offering this to them. I’m offering it to you. It’s not for you to question my motives.”

Every instinct in Castiel was telling him to walk away. Whatever Pellegrino’s motivations were, they wouldn’t be as straightforward as he was making them out to be. “In exchange for what?”

“Me not killing you?” Nick offered with a dangerous smile. “But I suppose, I could be persuaded to make the witness who saw Dean kill your ex disappear.”

“You’re saying-“

“He’d be a free man, yes. All I need from you are your skills. I have men who do it for me full time, but you’d be solid back-up, just in case, that’s all. You could go months without having to do anything.”

“Not a damned chance.” There was no way that it would be that fucking simple.

“Dean may have fought and killed those four last week, but I doubt he’ll be that lucky tonight; in about…” He pulled back the sleeve of his suit jacket to reveal a gold watch. “fifteen minutes, he’ll be facing six men with crowbars.”

Castiel’s stomach flipped. And not in a good, I’m-so-in-love way – in a bad, I’m-gonna-be-fucking-sick way. “Why? Why would you do this?”

“I told you. He took away Alistair.”

“Fuck.” Castiel hissed, running his hand through his hair, frantically trying to think. Surely this was the kind of shit that only happened in movies? Not in real life. “Fuckfuckfuck.”

“I’ll even let you live with him,” Nick offered with a nonchalant shrug, as if he was being super generous. “Nothing will change except that every so often you’ll have to run off to shoot someone for me. Of course, you can’t tell him, or anyone else, because then the game will be over and I _will_ just kill all of you.”

“And if I say no?”

“Are you willing to chance Dean’s life?”

No, no he wasn’t. Fuck no. “You’ll call them off? Tonight? And you’ll get him out of there tomorrow?”

“I suppose so.”

“How long will I have to do this shit for?”

“For however long I need you; probably a good few years.”

Castiel went quiet, taking the opportunity to think through his options. Which amounted to either leaving Dean in prison – him almost certainly getting convicted of the crime and getting regular beatings for the rest of his life, however long that may be – or become a killer-for-hire for the fucking devil – spend time with Dean as normal, just have to disappear every once in a while to kill some schmuck who probably deserved to die anyway…

“Look,” Nick suddenly said, impatient. “I think I’m being reasonable about this. I could easily force you to do it anyway and have Dean killed tonight.” It was a good point. For someone who had unleashed Alistair and orchestrated Balthazar’s murder and Dean’s frame-up, it was far too fucking reasonable. And that bothered Cas far more than the prospect of having to periodically murder people.

“Well, why the fuck _are_ you doing this then?”

A small smile played at the corner of his lips. “Because knowing that I own you when Dean thinks you’re his will give me more satisfaction than killing him ever could. Like I said, I just enjoy fucking with the Winchesters.”

_‘His endgame is so much bigger than simply fucking with us Cas. I just know it.’_

Remembering Dean’s words made no difference. His decision had been made the second Nick had said that his boyfriend would be safe. They could work the rest out later.

“Yes. The answer is yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've worked out who Tom's father is, nice one! It is canon from season one!


	4. Chapter Four - Heaven's On Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is a Kiss song; also incidentally Cas's ringtone as mentioned in Devil's Plaything.
> 
> Short-ish chapter, but it is a little porny.
> 
> Thank you again for your awesome comments guys!

Cas was sitting in Dean's lap on their couch, beer threatening to overspill as he gesticulated wildly,  animatedly talking to Andrea – who was sitting directly across from him; perched delicately on the coffee table – as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Watching him now, Dean would have had a hard time believing how _weird_ Cas had seemed when he'd met him that morning outside the prison gates, if he hadn’t have been there to witness it himself. He’d instantly suspected that something was off – Cas was different somehow – but he’d been so happy to see him that he ignored the niggling feeling in favour of pulling his boyfriend against him in a ridiculously constricting hug, not letting go until he was absolutely ready, and even then Cas was still clingy; constantly pulling Dean into random hugs in the Impala whenever they stopped at a light or junction, face pressed into Dean’s shirt.

He seemed completely fine now – back to his normal self – and he turned around with a genuine smile when Dean pushed his hand up the back of his shirt, rubbing the smooth skin there, eager to touch his boyfriend as much as possible, before the rug was unceremoniously pulled out from under him. It was almost certainly inevitable; the other shoe would drop sooner or later.  There would be a meeting first thing about how he was actually out, but for now he just wanted to enjoy the perks of being a free man. _All_ of them.

And why weren’t they fucking yet? Oh yeah, because Cas had insisted that they at least try to act civilised for the first couple of hours of Dean’s own welcoming home party.

And that had been amazing. Coming home to the guys, all so fucking pleased to see him. His damn Sasquatch brother had nearly suffocated him with his stupidly muscular arms when he’d enfolded them around Dean and even Bobby had managed a smile; an event so rare these days that Dean was tempted to take a picture and send it to a museum for posterity purposes.

Benny’s reaction had been Dean's favourite though; his long term best friend had gruffly said, “Welcome back brother.” And handed him a beer and a pack of smokes. With Cas’s permission – because the guy was scary enough when he wasn’t a fucking legend with a gun, and he did want to actually get laid tonight – Dean drank and smoked the first hour of the party away.

It was awesome.

The party was in full swing by now; a good fifty or so people dancing to the loud music outside and even the cops were staying away – despite the fact that the LMC and friends were probably well on their way to causing a noise disturbance – already knowing the cause for celebration.

A woman who was clearly a groupie, winked flirtily at Dean as she sauntered past and he instantly felt his boyfriend tense in his lap and he actually _stopped_ his conversation dead to glare at the poor girl. With a grin, Dean tugged at the hem of Cas’s shirt and pulled him down so that his back was pressed against Dean, binding the smaller man to him with a forearm across his chest.

“Have we been civilised enough yet, Cas?”

Castiel – the fucking tease – hummed thoughtfully, turning his head slightly. “What do you think?”

“I think that I have been very patient and if I don’t get you naked sometime in the next five minutes then we’re gonna have ourselves a little public indecency charge to add to the list." He stuck his bottom lip out in a pout. "I could go back to jail Cas.”

Cas exhaled shakily as he eyed Dean slowly, drinking in every detail.

“Well, can’t have that now can we? The only thing I want you inside of - from now on - is me.”

***

Cas’s face was buried in the soft pillow, muffling his choked off moans as Dean stretched him open; mercilessly rubbing at his prostate with two fingers until Castiel swore that he could see stars dancing in front of his eyelids. Dean had roughly shoved him down onto the bed as soon as they were through the door, manipulating him until he was on his hands and knees, ass up in the air, almost shaking with want and anticipation.

His boyfriend needed this; needed to feel dominant again after his time in prison, and so Castiel went willingly – as _if_ he wouldn’t have done so any way – allowing Dean to strip him, pressing his lips to every bit of Cas’s skin he progressively exposed.

Exposed was a good word for it. And not even just in the physical sense of nakedness. Nick had said that he could see Cas’s psychological scars a mile off; could Dean? Was Dean able to see straight through his smiles and would he be able to in the future, when Cas had to lie to him? Lie like he’d given Dean Hell for time and time again. The thought of Dean not noticing the shift concerned him, despite it being a prerequisite to keep the deal a secret. They’d been through so much together; it would be more than a little disappointing if the person who had seen him at his lowest ebb didn’t see the change, that – no matter how hard he tried to hide it – would be there for those who knew where to look. Where _Dean_ should know where to look.

They’d both fixed one another so many times at this point, the two of them so well acquainted with every crack, every flaw, every chink in the other’s armour that it was virtually impossible to hide. They’d seen each other pink and raw; scrubbed free of the bravado and sarcasm that permeated every other interaction. But not this, never this. He’d never be able to conceal himself from Dean when they were together in this way.

Sex was their tonic for everything; the place where they spoke to each other without using words; where they settled their differences; it was their great equalizer, and even with such a potentially destructive secret, he half-hoped that Dean would be able to see right through him; read him like the open book he usually prided himself on being.

It was a few seconds later when Dean’s fingers were removed and he was slowly sliding his thick length into Castiel in their place, that Cas came back to himself and the moment, abruptly pushing himself back further onto Dean’s cock in a way that made his boyfriend pull in a sharp intake of breath, and Castiel gasped at the sudden stretch and perfect burn that always accompanied the full feeling of Dean being inside him.

“Cas, Holy fuck, babe.”

When Dean was buried in him completely, Castiel let out a low whine, canting his hips upwards. “Fuck Dean. Please, I need you.” It wasn’t a lie; he could never lie to Dean about _this_.

And when Dean pulled out and then slammed back in again, Castiel’s throaty scream was barely masked by the pillows.

They had both been craving this; wanting a mindless fuck; needing to completely lose themselves in each other for a blissful few moments; Dean wiping his memory of Alistair and the fear he felt in prison; Cas forgetting all about his damn deal and virtually anything other than the feeling of Dean inside him. It was desperate and almost unbearably painful how Dean’s fingernails dug into his hips, anchoring Cas to him; how each rough thrust had Castiel gasping helplessly into the sheets, balling his hands into the bedding so hard that he felt the fabric tearing, but it was so fucking _necessary_ that it almost took Cas’s breath away with the intensity of it.

Not faltering in his rhythm, Dean reached forward and grabbed a fistful of Cas’s hair and tugged, making Cas arch his back until he had no choice but to let Dean pull him backwards, so that he was braced up on his hands now, virtually bending his spine in half, but it felt so good; so damned good.

He awkwardly reached behind himself with one hand, fingers groping for purchase against the sweat-slick skin of Dean’s thigh, trying to dig his nails in to the firm flesh, wanting to leave Dean with the same motif that he had marked Cas’s hips with. Dean hissed and his thrusts grew more violent, nailing his prostate on virtually every shove into Castiel’s body, his other hand tightening on Cas’s hipbone.

Castiel’s moans got higher in pitch, the delicious heat coiling low in his belly, until he was suddenly so close that he could barely see, his vision beginning to go fuzzy and then Dean was releasing his grip on Cas’s hair and instead wrapping his hand around his cock, squeezing tightly at the base, cruelly withholding his orgasm.

Castiel grit his teeth. Holy shit, he needed to come.

“Nuh-uh Cas.” Castiel could hear the smirk in his boyfriend’s breathless voice. He had never wanted to punch him more.

“God I fucking missed this. It was the only thing that kept me going you know? It was the thought of getting to fuck you again.” His thrusts slowed down to a gentle rocking motion as he smoothed his other hand over the marks on Cas’s hip, then down his flank in a gesture that was probably meant to be soothing, but felt like too much stimulation on his sensitive skin to be anything other than frustrating.

Castiel whimpered helplessly, touched by Dean’s words, but at the same time, fucking desperate for his bastard boyfriend to let him fucking come already.

“Cas, baby. Tell me about the men you killed… Tell me all about what a fucking badass you are, how I’ve corrupted you... So _fucking hot_ , Cas.”

Castiel felt another spark of heat skitter alone his veins at Dean’s words; his mind blanking to everything but the feeling of skin and gentle friction. He _could_ tell Dean the things he was willing to do for him; the lengths he was willing to go to, make him realise how truly bound to him he actually was, how deep his influence truly ran – except he couldn’t.

“Oh fuck, Dean…” Cas let out a hoarse cry when his boyfriend tightened his grip on his dick.  “I shot them between the eyes with your gun like it was nothing…Oh _God_ …was just a librarian before... before I met you baby.”

Balthazar was right; Castiel had undoubtedly changed; he had a purpose now rather than just meandering his way through life, hoping for things to get better. He had a reason to be alive, he had everything he needed right here. He’d do _anything_ to keep it this way. He _had_ done anything to keep it this way.

“I did it _because_ of you. I did it _for_ you.” He wasn’t just talking about the men he’d killed; but also the men he was going to kill in the name of the deal he’d made. The deal for Dean’s life. The deal he’d never be able to regret, no matter how hard he tried. “All for you baby.”

Dean’s breathing was erratic and the rhythm was beginning to eke from his thrusts, indicating that he was close.

“I’d do anything for you, Dean. Just like you would for me.” His words were the absolute truth; he wanted to be honest with his boyfriend as much as humanly possible as if it would make up for the massive lie he’d have to tell over and over again; a pit growing in his very soul.

_It’s all for Dean. Two broken halves of a very fucked up whole._

“All for you baby.”

Dean finally released his grip on Cas’s cock, and almost instantly Castiel was coming, hard enough for his legs to give out from underneath him. In the split second that followed, Dean was too; both of them crying out their release as one.

Dean collapsed onto him, pinning Cas to the mattress beneath, hips flush together, waiting for their breathing to calm and pulses to settle.

The warm weight of Dean on him was far from uncomfortable – mostly reassuring, in fact – and he could feel himself gradually drifting off into – very much needed – sleep. He felt so calm; almost weightless and for the few seconds before he tipped over into oblivion he could pretend that he was back at the fête watching the fireworks with Dean.

“I know there’s something up with you, y’know.” Dean whispered, kissing the sweaty nape of Cas’s neck, before pulling out and away, flopping down next to Cas on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

“Mhm?” He feigned innocence, not daring to look at Dean out of the fear that he’d suddenly crack wide open in the moment, like Dean had coaxed him into doing weeks ago.

“Saw it straightaway. I know you inside out, Cas.”

Castiel hid his smile in the crook of his arm.

So Dean had him pegged from the get-go.

Thank fuck. 


	5. Chapter Five - Army Of The Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is a song from Roadrunner United.
> 
> So, with it being Valentine's day and all, I couldn't resist a bit of silly fluff. Especially as the boys have been having such a hard time of it recently.
> 
> As usual, thank you for reading, commenting etc. You wonderful people, you.

Leaning back in his chair at the head of the boardroom table felt exactly like coming home should. His Club, his friends, his _family_ looking to him for direction and advice made him feel realise that there truly was no other place he’d rather be. His time in prison had given him some new perspective on his life and what he wanted from it. He wanted this. He wanted Cas. It was that simple. Anything else was a bonus.

“So Sammy. What’s happening? Give me the cliff notes.”

Sam smiled exasperatedly, but it was somehow fond. Dean’s desire to always be told even the most complicated things in bite-sized chunks had never failed to irk his baby brother; he was the type who would much rather sit down and plan things through to the extreme.

Life was too short for that bullshit.

“Um, well. Crowley seems to think that Pellegrino is up to something with your release-“

“Don’t we all,” muttered Rufus and there was a vague hum of assent from around the table. Of course it had crossed Dean’s mind; in fact it was virtually the _only_ thing on Dean’s mind. Well, that and Cas’s odd behaviour. He was okay again this morning, but last night Dean had gotten little flashes of awkwardness, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to hide whatever it was from Dean at all.

He’d find out. He’d already proven once that he could make Cas crack. In fact, he was kind of looking forward to doing it again; the gauntlet had been thrown down, the challenge set. And Dean Winchester was not one to back away from a challenge.

Dean nodded, swallowing around a mouthful of beer. It was probably a little early, but he’d been deprived of it for over two weeks; he had catching up to do. “Yeah, I’m sure he wouldn’t have done it out of the kindness of his heart, so we’re gonna have to start pressing Crowley for more info. He’s not there to tell us vague shit that we already know.”

“Okay.” Sam said. “We’ll get a meeting set up. You wanna phone him or shall I?”

“I’ll do it. I’ve missed the limey bastard.”

“Other than that, we’ve got some guns from that deal we did not long after you went inside. The Vamps were supposed to be buying, but we’ve not heard from them.”

“We’ve still got those?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, Pellegrino’s lot didn’t get anywhere near them. Did Cas tell you how he helped out with that?”

Dean shot his brother a filthy wink. “Oh yeah, he did.”

“Gross Dean.” Sam screwed his face up. “And thanks for the Divinyls thing by the way. Because as if that wasn’t as awkward as fuck.”

_Oh yeah._

He’d forgotten all about that; bless Cas.

“The least I can do is gross you out from inside prison Sammy.”

The others all exchanged glances, looking to one another to see if anybody other than Sam and Dean were in on the joke.

“Just me being me,” Dean smirked, by way of explanation. Everyone seemed to instantly understand and pulled the corresponding faces.

“How’s Cas been by the way guys? He seem off to any of you?” He leaned forward in his seat slightly; eager to hear any information they may be able to share.

“Not really,” Bobby said. “I haven’t seen him eat much, and I guess he probably wasn’t sleeping a lot, but other than generally worrying about your stupid ass? Nothing. He mostly kept to himself.  We had a prospect keep an eye on him some of the time, and he didn’t say a word about that, which thinking about it now was a little odd, considering how...” He paused, searching for a word that wouldn’t earn him another threat from Dean. “ _Vocal_ he was about it last time.”

Dean’s face broke into a blinding grin. Oh yeah, Cas was _very_ vocal.

“He spent a fair amount of time with Andrea,” Benny added. “They seemed to devote an inordinate amount of time talking about books. Andrea thinks the world of him.”

Dean was actually really relieved that Cas seemed to have found a friend in Andrea; she was a good woman who knew how to handle herself and most of the things that the Club threw at her marriage.

“Is everything okay with you two boy?” Bobby asked.

Dean nodded, probably looking more confident than he felt. “Yeah. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

 

***

Cas was just blinking into consciousness, pressing his face further into the pillow contentedly after a decent night’s sleep with Dean next to him; when he heard the soft thud of Dean’s heavy boots on the carpeted stairs, and he slowly rolled over onto his back, sleepily groaning at actually being awake. He could have probably slept for another few weeks at least.

“Hey baby,” Dean appeared in the doorway, leaning against the jamb, warm smile lighting up his handsome face as his eyes swept over Cas’s naked torso. Goddamn, that look; he would never get enough of that heated look in Dean’s eyes, the way he couldn’t _not_ look at Cas like that. It was a total power trip.

And the fact that Dean was actually home again? Yeah, that was even better. It had felt like a dream this morning as they’d spooned, Dean’s chest plastered against Cas’s back and gently rocking into him, his movements languid and maddening, but oh _so_ good. He was sure that he’d never get used to Dean home, _safe_ again; it was just too good to be true.

_Aside from the whole lying and murdering thing._

Dean folded his tattooed arms across his broad chest and tilted his head to look at Cas questioningly. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Cas managed a genuine smile, as he sat up, bracing himself on his arms, the thin sheets just about covering his groin and legs. “Especially now that you’re home.”

Dean narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Cas, trying to see if he was telling the truth. After a few seconds of intense scrutiny, he finally relented with a barely audible sigh. “Good. Get dressed, I’m taking you out.”

Castiel cocked a brow. “You do realise that a quickie on one of our bikes in the middle of nowhere, does not a date make.”

“It does make for a great time though.” Dean’s quick grin was utter filth, full of lewd promises. “But no, I am actually taking you out, so come on.”

Castiel rubbed the sleep from one eye, before moving to the other. “No Club business?”

“The Club can fucking wait.” Dean shifted his weight impatiently, clearly anxious for Cas to get up already.

“I have to be at the library.” He had a five hour shift starting in – he glanced at the little clock on the nightstand – two and a bit hours. Maybe time for a quick burger at Benny and Andrea’s place, but that would be it.

Dean huffed, looking a little hurt. “Jeez Cas, anyone would think that you don’t wanna spend time with me.”

“It’s not that; of course I wanna spend time with you. But I can’t just drop my commitments like that.”

“Just phone in sick or something.” Of course it would be that easy to Dean. It’s not like he had any tangible idea what it was like holding down a real job; Bobby had always been his boss at the Yard.

“And if someone sees me out and about with you, decidedly not ill?”

“So, they fire you. What’s the big deal? I earn enough. You don’t need a job.” He flippant attitude was beginning to irk Castiel and he had a tough time thinking of ways to keep the conversation light. He didn’t want a full-blown argument on the first real morning they’d had together in weeks.

He settled for snorting derisively.  “You’re telling me that you want me to be a kept man?”

“If you wanna look at it that way-“ He shrugged casually, wisely leaving the rest of his sentence open when he saw the expression on his boyfriend’s face.

“If _you_ wanna look at it that way, as in from the point of view of me shoving my foot up your ass, then sure. I’ll be your little house wench.”

Dean chuckled. “You would look pretty in an apron. And nothing else.”

Castiel rolled his eyes, not really angry. It was too early to be getting irate about this kind of dumb crap. Especially when _Dean was home_. “One track mind, Dean. And anyway, I thought we were supposed to be partners. You know, as in doing things together, being equal. Like both of us bringing in a wage for instance.”

“You wanna play that card? Fine. If we’re partners then, tell me what’s up with you.”

Castiel felt the nervous tension that had drained away during the night, return with a vengeance. He had been waiting for this the whole time that they had been having sleepy sex, before Dean went to his meeting and Cas fell back asleep; waiting for the inevitable persistent questioning.

“Nothing’s up.”

In three large strides, Dean was by the end of the bed and yanking the sheets completely away from Cas’s body. Castiel yelped when the cool air hit his naked skin and tried to curl up on himself, but Dean was quicker, throwing himself on top of Cas , knees either side of his thighs, his clothed chest against Cas’s bare one, pinning his arms above his head.

“Tell me baby,” Dean licked a stripe from Cas’s collarbone to just under his ear. Castiel shivered involuntarily. “Tell me what’s bugging you.” He released his grip on Cas’s wrist momentarily to wiggle his fingers. “Or I’ll have to resort to other measures.”

“I’m fine, Dean!” Cas squirmed beneath him, trying to free himself from Dean’s grasp. Dean changed his hold on Cas's wrists, swapping them both into one hand so that he could use his other for more nefarious, tickle-related purposes. “Get off me you prick! You’re such an absolute asshole…” By the end of his sentence, he had dissolved into a fit of giggles, struggling to breathe he was laughing so hard. He was so fucking happy that after everything, they could still be like this with one another.

With a grin, Dean rolled off him, but his eyes were a bright, joyful green. He had never looked more fucking beautiful.

“You’re such a bastard.”

“You tell me that a lot babe.”

Castiel snorted a laugh, turning his head to face his boyfriend, but not looking at him, instead playing with a loose thread on his shirt. “You really wanna know what’s up?”

Dean repositioned himself on his side, staring straight at Cas. “I feel like I’m at a slumber party or some shit, but yes. Tell me.”

Castiel took a deep breath, and started with complete sincerity, “Okay I guess I’m a little upset because now you’re home, I’m gonna have to phone round all of the men that I had pencilled in to my diary to fuck me senseless today and cancel them, but other than that…” He turned to face Dean, who was eyeing at him with the roguish look that Cas adored. “Okay, so maybe I’m a little cranky because Fabio was one of my favourites and I was especially looking forward to him.” He sighed wistfully. “Such beautiful flowing locks. Like something right out of a Mills & Boon.”

Dean Winchester straight-up, honest to God, giggled. Like a teenage girl at a sleepover. It was kind of unnerving.

“He sounds dreamy, Cas.”

Castiel slapped him gently on the arm. “You’re way too good at that.”

Dean smirked, reaching out and pulling Cas towards him, the smaller man awkwardly shuffling closer. They lay there for a few moments, just savouring the warmth of each other, basking in one another’s prescence. The silence was broken by a small indignant noise from Dean.

“Fabio eh?”

“Yep,” Cas grinned. “He’s a stallion in so _so_ many ways.”

 

***

As it turned out, Dean really did have a proper date planned; the winter festival in Kansas City. Cas had mentioned it in passing months ago and so was extremely impressed that Dean had remembered, especially with everything else that was going on.

It had been easy to call Ava and get her to cover for him at the library; after all she owed him a million and one favours for all the times he’d had to go in at short notice because of her kid being ill or the dog eating its own squeaky toy. Which happened surprisingly often.

Dean slung his arm across Cas’s shoulders lazily as they walked through the crowds. Cas idly noticed that – even with the cold weather setting in – Dean had never asked for his jacket back; instead he continued to let Cas wear it whilst he stuck to a dark hoodie with his MC kutte over the top. It suited him and Castiel was definitely in no hurry to hand the jacket back any time soon; he wore it like a second skin these days. “What do you want to do first baby?”

Castiel hummed thoughtfully, glancing around at the stalls all set up with delicious smelling foods and drink. Back in Denver he loved the Christmas markets for this very reason; they always made him feel so content, no matter how crappy the rest of his life was.

“Have you ever tried mulled wine?”

Dean flashed him a lop-sided grin. “Do I look like a guy who has ever even tried _normal_ wine?”

Castiel looked him up and down, and stroked his chin as if he were seriously considering his answer. “I dunno, I mean you’re no renaissance man, but surely, you can’t be that much of a heathen?”

“You’d better believe I can, Mr-upstanding-pillar-of-the-community-until-he-met-me.”

Castiel felt his lips twitch into a smile. Goddamn, he was so in fucking love with this _infuriating_ man. This stupidly attractive, childish, lewd, dumbass of a man. He would never want anybody else for as long as he lived. In fact, he didn’t think that he would be capable of loving anybody so fiercely; _so completely_ ever again.

“Wanna try some? I promise that it won’t suddenly turn you into a vicar or anything. You’ll still be the same crass, pig-headed Dean. Scout’s honour.”

“Well, what’s the fucking point then? And as if you were ever a boy scout.”

“I actually was,” Castiel said, steering them over to the gorgeous spicy smelling stall with the large metal vats of hot liquid. “Had to wear the shorts and everything. Find us somewhere to sit babe?”

“Sure,” Dean smiled, pressed a kiss to Cas’s forehead and then he was meandering back the way they came, through the mass of people, towards the big seating area that was decked out with picnic tables. Around the perimeter there were several conifers adorned with white fairy lights and he smiled when Dean took a seat near one and sent Cas a thumbs up.

This was definitely up there in amongst his happiest memories.

He paid the man for the two wines and then he was following Dean’s path through the crowd, not daring to take his eyes off the cups for fear of spilling the scalding liquid over his hand.

Castiel put his down on the table, handing Dean the other white Styrofoam cup and his boyfriend looked down at it like he’d just been handed a cup of poison. He gave the liquid a quick sniff, and Castiel resisted the urge to smile as he straddled the wooden bench opposite Dean. “It smells okay, I guess?”

“Just try it.” Castiel murmured, clasping his own hot cup between his hands – enjoying the warmth eking though – amused by his wuss of a boyfriend; the same boyfriend who had killed four men with a toothbrush handle and a pair of scrubs a week ago. And here he was being a priss about some damn drink.

“Ugh.” Dean’s face twisted comically into an expression of pure disgust; as if he’d just been forced to eat crushed up bugs or something equally repulsive.

“Don’t be such a baby.” Castiel chided, laughing softly.

“It tastes like slightly fruity anti-freeze.”

“Drink anti-freeze regularly, do you?”

“No, but I might have to start. It’ll at least be cheaper than this shit.”

“Absolutely no propriety.” Castiel shook his head playfully and sipped at his own wine. It didn’t quite burn his tongue, though it still felt a little too hot, but it tasted so nice, Cas just wanted to drink it all down. He’d probably end up having Dean’s too.

“Maybe Fabio should have brought you here instead, eh Cas?”

Castiel chuckled good-naturedly. “Yeah, he might have behaved himself better than you. You’re a goddamn embarrassment, Winchester.” He took another drink and added with a wry smile, “It’s lucky I love you really.”

“And I love you too Novak, you insufferable asshole.”


	6. Chapter Six - My Last Serenade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is a Killswitch Engage song.
> 
> All I'm gonna say about this chapter is, I am seriously so sorry.

It was another two weeks before Cas heard from Nick.

Two days before Thanksgiving, when his brother and sister were due to visit – and if that wasn’t going to be stressful as all Hell – he got a text from an unknown number with the order to get to Wichita as soon as possible.

Cas was incredibly thankful that Dean was meeting with Crowley in regards to a big shipment of guns they were transporting, so he was able to slip away undetected, leaving a note on the kitchen counter saying that he was doing some extra work at the library, in case Dean got home before he did.

He felt like an asshole lying to Dean, but it was the only way. He was doing this _for_ Dean.

His internal mantra of ‘Doing it for Dean’ was exactly how he ended up in an empty office-to-let five floors up, just outside of Clearwater, with a suppressor screwed onto the end of the Glock 17 that Benny had given him a while back.

Nick had asked to see his weapon when Cas had arrived at the same building that he’d made the life-changing deal in, field-stripped it, then replaced the barrel and put it back together. Castiel had already known that he was _way_ out of his league where Nick and the Angels were concerned, but watching the fucking mafia boss deftly and swiftly taking a weapon apart was more than a little intimidating.

Cas’s mind had been totally blank when he’d observed him, otherwise he would have come up with some metaphors about Nick’s ability to take shit to pieces and put it back together again the way he wanted.

The victim was a Mr Paul Williams; someone who had dared to disrespect one of Nick’s men by sleeping with his wife. Apparently Castiel was starting off small, which somehow made it worse; at least if he’d been assigned to kill someone who was a murderer themselves, he would have felt some small sense of righteousness; some justification, but killing someone for dicking the wrong person seemed more than a little harsh. Though, Castiel supposed that given the opportunity and a gun, he may have considered killing Balthazar at the time he caught him fucking his cousin.

Maybe it really was a case of karma that he ended up dead anyway.

Cas idly wondered that if Balthazar hadn’t decided to show up, whether this whole sorry mess would have been avoided, but from what he’d seen of Nick, he would have found a way to nail Dean – and by proxy, Cas – to the wall sooner or later. He didn’t seem like the type to give up on his obsessions without a fight. Or more accurately, without causing the deaths of everybody in his way.

The square room – office – was large and empty save for a few desks and a filing cabinet that the previous tenants must have deemed not worthy enough to be of any use. Castiel was grateful as it meant decent cover. He wasn’t exactly sure what the guy would be like, whether he’d be armed, whether he could fight; he’d been given a photo and told that Williams was coming to the place under the pretext of a drug deal with one of Nick’s lowers, Raphael. Other than that, Cas had no clue what to expect. The guy in the photo looked to be of average build, average height, brown hair, brown eyes. Just average in every way.

He hoped for Williams’s sake that the sex had been worth it.

He panicked for a moment when he heard the elevator doors ding in the corridor outside; not sure whether to hide behind the desk to his right or the filing cabinet on the left up against the wall that the door was on. After fumbling briefly, he decided on the filing cabinet; it was tall enough for him to hide behind without having to crouch and jump out like a fucking jack-in-a-box.

God, he was so fucking nervous; he could feel the sweat dribbling down the back of his neck, soaking through to his t-shirt, sticking it to him. His hands were shaking like he was freezing cold and he was on the verge of passing out.

If he missed though, he was utterly fucked.

He realised with a vague sense of bitterness – that all those times months ago, when he’d actually thought handling a gun would be awesome and he’d been proud of himself for his apparent skills – he had been so laughably naïve.

Dean had been right to keep him from this shit.

This was actually murder. The five guys he’d killed at the house had been on his property; he could hide behind the self-defence thing, because it was true. But this? This was straight up killing in cold blood.

All in the name of Goddamn love.

_Fuck you Dean Winchester. And your handsome fucking face._

The door a good twenty feet away from Castiel, slowly groaned open and he swallowed hard, his fear ratcheting up a couple of notches, almost to the same point that it had been with Alistair. Jesus fuck, had his life actually come to this?

“Hello? Raphael?”

Castiel screwed his eyes shut. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t just kill someone. He couldn’t have that on his shoulders.

The guy fumbled for something in his pocket and Castiel opened his eyes in time to just about see from his vantage point that it was a piece of paper. “Yep,” Williams muttered to himself. “Definitely the right place.”

If he didn’t do this then Dean was a dead man. It was him or this random guy.

_Fuck._

Williams walked further into the room, looking around. He hadn’t yet drawn any kind of weapon, but the longer Cas left it, the more the man’s suspicions would grow and the harder it would be for Cas to do it. And it was _definitely_ the guy from the picture, so it wasn’t like he could keep putting it off; telling himself to be one hundred per cent sure that he had the right man.

_FUCK._

He waited until Williams was about five feet on the other side of the filing cabinet and he took a deep steadying breath – which didn’t help in the slightest – and stepped out of his hiding place, gun pointed at the guy’s chest.

“Jesus fuck!” The man’s double take would have been hilarious under any other circumstances, but Cas was hard-pressed to find anything even slightly amusing about this situation. Williams quickly noticed the gun and his eyes widened as he went to reach inside his coat pocket, presumably for his own firearm.

“No.” Cas said simply, though his voice sounded so damned shaky, it was a wonder the guy didn’t laugh at him. “What’s your name?” He had to make sure he got it right. Totally not stalling.

“P-Paul.” The man stuttered, holding his hands in front of his body, surrendering. “Please don’t kill me man… I’ve got two little girls at home.”

_FUCKFUCKFUCK._

“I’m so sorry,” Castiel said, not lowering his gun. He really was. For both of them.

“Please! I’ll give you money. Anything you want!”

“Can you keep my boyfriend safe from Pellegrino?” It was a rhetorical question. Knowing what he knew now, Dean would never be safe from the man ever again unless he followed through with this. He was just time-wasting again, futilely hoping that something, _anything_ would come and save them from this insane situation that they had both found themselves at the opposite sides of.

Williams looked monumentally confused for a moment, before he seemed to regain his equilibrium. He gave Castiel a small nod, as if he fucking _understood._ As if he knew why Castiel had to do this.

And that made it so much harder.

“So fucking sorry,” He whispered, screwing his eyes shut and pulling the trigger. The noise of the gun was audible, but barely, and he opened his eyes in time to see Paul’s lifeless body slumping to the floor.

An instant later, Castiel felt his legs turning to jelly and he quickly reached out for the wall, slamming his back against it and slid down to the floor. He stared into space – in a kind of trance – until finally, the seriousness of the situation hit him and his breath hitched in a sob, and then he was crying like he hadn’t done since his first nightmare after Alistair, when Dean pulled him into his arms without a word and let him scream his way through the pain.

Except Dean couldn’t do that now. Nobody could.

It was dark by the time he felt able to stand without either throwing up or collapsing.

Goddamn he needed a fucking drink.

 

***

Crowley – as usual – was being a smug, unbearable prick. Dean shouldn’t have expected anything less really; the last two weeks of undercover work had yielded precisely fuck all results and now here he was telling them that the price of the merchandise had gone up.

“Wanna run that past me again Crowley?” Dean stepped forward, revolver in hand. “Because since I got out, I’ve been having a lot of problems with shit that you say.”

Crowley glanced nervously between the two brothers and then at Bobby and Benny who were parked further back, just inside the warehouse’s double doors, unable to hear the conversation.

“Look, I’m trying with Pellegrino, I really am. But the guy doesn’t fully trust me.”

“Can’t imagine why.”

“Wait a second.” Sam held his hand up, narrowing his eyes in Crowley’s direction. “You said a month ago, and I quote: ‘He trusts me’. In fact that was your sole reasoning for the stupid deal in the first place!”

“Yeah, well things change, don’t they moose?” Crowley actually looked contrite for a change. “He thinks he has some untrustworthy minions and I’m not exactly keen to stick my head above the parapet right now, okay?”

Dean rolled his eyes; so absolutely sick of this shit. He was still no closer to finding out why he was miraculously out and he was growing increasingly more paranoid waiting for the other shoe to drop. There was _always_ a deeper reason for things that assholes like Pellegrino did.

“Why have the guns gone up Crowley? I thought you were getting them from the Russians? They’ve never let us down before.”

Crowley sighed. “Yes, but Pellegrino is clamping down hard on everybody at the moment. Me, you, the Russians.”

“You can’t be telling us that some fucking crappy gangster is able to control the damn Russians.”

“Unless, he’s not just a small-time gangster and Crowley has been withholding information…” Sam trailed off, still staring at Crowley, watching for his reaction.

When Crowley shrugged ever so slightly, the Winchesters had their answer.

“Who is he Crowley?” Dean didn’t dare raise his gun to aim at the asshole, because if he did, he knew that he would definitely kill him this time.

“He’s the boss.” Crowley muttered, suddenly looking very small and un-Crowley-like. “He’s…uh…the real boss man of the Angels. He’s Mafia, boys. Old school shit. Horses heads and all that. Zachariah was small-fry compared to him; just a sub-ordinate.”

Dean just about had a second to process that game-changing information, before his phone was ringing. He considered letting it go through to voicemail, but if it was Cas…

“Winchester.”

“Dean, your boy is in trouble.”

Dean sucked in a breath. Fucking really? Cas certainly knew how to pick him damned moments.

“What’s happened?” A few months ago, he would have gone bolting after his boyfriend without thinking, but he was starting to learn his lesson after the amount of times that Cas had lost his shit for him charging in to save him like ‘a fucking damsel in distress’. He’d have to remember to bring it up next time they argued. He deserved some damn credit.

“He started a brawl because someone tried to hit on him.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

It was a sad state of affairs when Dean was the more level-headed one in their relationship. He knew that all this gun shit – as hot as it was – would eventually get to Cas. He just wasn’t built for this life. Thinking about it now, that was probably what had been up with him since Dean had gotten out of prison.

He could have kicked himself for his stupidity. Of course it was that. For all his bluster, Cas had _killed_ five guys a few weeks back. And all Dean had done to comfort him was to keep banging on about how sexy it was.

He was such a selfish asshole.

“Okay Ellen, thanks. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Twenty minutes tops. Try to keep him from shooting anyone.”

There was a small pause, then Ellen said quietly. “He used to be such a nice boy until you got your hands on him, Dean.”

Dean grit his teeth. He was well aware that he’d ruined Cas. He knew that he shouldn’t have gone chasing after the cute looking twinkie all those months ago, but he’d never regret it. If that made him selfish and a bad person then it wasn’t a newsflash. He’d wanted Cas and that was it. He had him now and he wasn’t sorry about it. Not for a fucking second. Even when he was starting damn bar brawls.

 

***

 

When he got to the Roadhouse in record time, Jo was on him straight away, dragging him into the back, away from the broken chairs and injured men, some of who were still only just getting up. The place looked like a tornado had hit, smashed glass and upturned tables. Jesus _fuck_ , what the Hell was Cas playing at? “He’s gone!” She whispered harshly. “We tried to stop him, but he wasn’t having any of it. After the fight he just got on his bike and left.”

Dean sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Jesus Christ Jo.”

“Is he okay? I mean, he seems a little frayed around the edges. To put it mildly.”

“I don’t know.” Dean admitted, throwing his hands up in the air in a frustrated gesture that did absolutely nothing to convey just how much of a loss he was at with Cas right now. “I have no idea what the fuck is with him at the moment. He’s been like this since I got out.”

Jo looked up at him, biting her lip. “Any ideas where he might go?”

“I’m hoping home, but that may be too much to ask for. If he swings by here again, please give me a call.”

“Of course.” She smiled sympathetically and Dean snuck out the back way, not keen to face Ellen at the moment. He’d pay the bill for the damage of course, but right now, his top priority was finding his boyfriend before he did anything else stupid.

He straddled his bike and started up the engine, zooming out of the lot before anybody could stop him and demand recompense for his boyfriend’s actions.

Was this his fault? Was he overlooking Cas again like he did after Alistair? It felt like they were talking more, but was Cas just playing along, not really giving their conversations the time of day? Dean didn’t feel like he’d been overly negligent of Cas’s feelings; not to the extent of last time anyway. Sure, he’d been too slow to connect him killing five people with his recent weirdness, but he’d tried to talk about it, at least.

That was worth something, right?

***

When he got home, half an hour later, he spied the note on the countertop. It was utter bullshit because Cas wasn’t at the library like it said; hadn’t been virtually all day according to Ava. Dean had also tried the diner and the park on the off-chance. No-one had seen him since just before lunch. Seemed like he’d totally disappeared, come back to create problems for Ellen and then vanished to fuck-knows-where again. He crumpled the note up into the palm of his hand. God fucking dammit, he could have done without Cas going off the rails right now.

He pulled up a stool at the breakfast bar and dropped his head into his hands with a heavy sigh.

Finding out about Pellegrino was just the icing on a very shitty year-long cake. He supposed that he shouldn’t even be surprised by Crowley’s bullshit revelations by now, but Jesus fucking Christ, he couldn’t have mentioned it a little bit fucking sooner? He’d left Sammy and the others to deal with the meeting when he’d bolted out in search of Cas and he hoped sincerely that his VP was able to get something sorted, because he really was so _done_ with the whole thing.

He moved into the front room, throwing himself down on the couch and staring off into the distance. If he was going to be miserable, he may as well be comfortable.

Dean wasn’t sure how long he stayed like that for; just slowly spooling over everything he had done and hadn’t done for Cas in their relationship. He was trying, he really was. But he needed Cas to tell him when he was doing things wrong, rather than flipping out and making a big scene like he was doing now. It wasn’t constructive for anybody, least of all them.

He heard a key in the door and he jumped off the couch in double quick time, rushing through the front room towards the noise.

Castiel was just closing the door, looking like he’d fought the Devil and won and Dean felt such a rush of _angerfuryaffectionrelief_ that he didn’t quite know what to do with himself.

“Cas, where the fuck have you been?” Apparently he was settling for angry parent. Probably not the best stance to take with Cas, but fuck it.

Castiel faced him with a glare that Dean had learned to interpret as his ‘eat-shit-and-die’ look. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were my fucking mother!”

Dean balked at the venom in Cas’s tone. “Jesus Christ, what crawled up your ass and died?”

“Just fuck off Dean. I’m not in the mood for your shit right now.” Castiel went to push past him, but Dean used his superior strength to push him back against the wall next to the doorframe, an arm either side of his head, boxing the smaller man in.

Dean leaned in closer, enough to feel the rage coming off Cas in waves. “When are you ever Cas? But here we are.”

Castiel sagged against the wall, defeated, but still not meeting Dean’s eyes, instead choosing to stare out a vase on the sideboard that had yet to be broken during one of their arguments. The way this conversation was going, it would be lucky if it saw the end of the night in one piece.

“Now are you gonna tell me what the fuck is wrong with you? Or am I gonna have to screw it out of you?”

Needless to say the reaction he got was the complete opposite of what he was expecting. Cas seemed to reanimate and Dean swore he could see the shutters coming down in his mind. “That’s your answer to everything, isn’t it? Fucking?”

Dean eyes widened, and he raised his eyebrows, shocked. As long as they’d been together it had been a good mutual solution that often lead to them talking about feelings and shit afterwards. It was good for them. “Well yeah. It used to be yours too Cas.”

“Well people fucking change alright?”

“Yeah,” Dean pulled away, looking at Cas in a different light. This wasn’t his usual Dean-you’re-so-infuriating-I-want-to-punch-you-in-the-face anger, it was something new entirely. And it alarmed Dean. He was all for discovering new sides to his already very complicated boyfriend, but this side was honestly one that he’d never thought he’d see in the scruffy haired librarian.

“I’m beginning to get that Cas.” He kept looking at him, as if the answer to what was bothering him was written in the lines of his deep frown or in the corners of his upturned mouth. “I’ll sleep in the bunker tonight. Give you your own space. Seems like you could do with it.” He turned away and started towards the kitchen door.

“Wait Dean –“

He heard Cas call out behind him, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. If this was the way his boyfriend wanted to play it then so fucking be it.

The frame shook hard when he slammed the door behind him.

Goddamn he needed a fucking drink.

 

 


	7. Chapter Seven - Dying For An Angel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is an Avantasia song.
> 
> Thank you all for your comments; they really do brighten my day. You're all fantastic.
> 
> And once again, I am so fucking sorry!

Depressingly, Castiel woke up alone. He’d fruitlessly been hoping that Dean would sneak up to bed in the middle of the night, all apologies and cuddles, and then they could have lost themselves in each other like they both so clearly needed to do.

It didn’t happen.

Castiel had fucked up.

Going to the Roadhouse had been a mistake; his bad mood, plus alcohol, plus some asshole hitting on him, equalled a pretty brutal fight that he was still aching from this morning. Luckily, his rage had carried him through the worst of it and he’d managed to lay out a few guys before a grossly overweight biker who smelled like beer and BO had gotten the best of him. The ugly bruise that was undoubtedly blooming across his jaw would almost certainly be a source of concern for anyone who saw him.

He’d have to go and apologise to Ellen and Jo, and offer to pay for any damage too. If Dean hadn’t already done that when he’d turned up, probably mere minutes after Cas had split. As soon as Cas had seen Ellen on the phone, he’d known that his boyfriend would have been on his way, so he threw a couple more punches and then he was out of there, just riding around aimlessly for fuck knows how long. Riding had always soothed his mind, but last night it had done nothing but agitate it.

And then Dean.

The worry in his eyes had been evident, but Castiel hadn’t cared; just wanting to lash out. After all, it was kind of Dean’s fault that he was in this position. His fault entirely for having such beautiful eyes, and a perfect mouth and _that fucking wink at the store._

Without Dean he had nothing.

And to top it all off, his brother and sister were due into town in a few hours and there was no way he was going to be able to face them. He’d suggested that they stay at the house – plenty of room, after all – but with everything that was going on, he was considering rescinding the offer. If anything happened to them whilst they were here, he’d never forgive himself.

He already had enough guilt to deal with to last him a lifetime.

He sat up in bed, needing to get back to sleep, but not able to. He’d tossed and turned virtually all night in that horrible half-dream state where he wasn’t sure what was real and what wasn’t, his thoughts full of torment and the dead eyes of Paul Williams. After his sob-fest at the crime scene, he didn’t think he could cry anymore, but he’d been proven totally wrong as his tear-stained pillow could attest. And even now he could feel the familiar hot burn behind his eyes.

_Goddammit._

At least Dean wasn’t around to see, because if he asked right now, then Castiel would undoubtedly split in two and spill absolutely everything.

***

 

Dean's hangover was legendary.

Holy _fuck_ his head hurt. He was pretty damned impressed that he could even hold on to a thought right now because of the resonating booming sound echoing around his brain. However, it still took him a couple of minutes to realise where he was and why the warm lithe body of his boyfriend wasn’t lying next to him.

_Oh._

Yeah, last night had been a complete and utter disaster – _understatement_ – and Dean had pretty much drunk the bunker dry, not wanting to feel his feelings anymore. Not the most constructive method of dealing with the situation, but at least he managed not to fall dick first into the nearest girl who batted her eyelashes at him, like he would have done in the days before Cas.

That would have killed Cas, and no matter how pissed and rejected Dean was feeling, he just couldn’t do that to someone he loved so damn much.

However, the possibility of Cas doing it to _Dean_ was one that had actually crossed his mind. What if he just wasn’t doing it for him anymore; what if the rose-tinted glasses in regards to Dean’s lifestyle were finally coming off for Cas and he was starting to see his future with Dean and it was just one nightmare after another? Because in reality that’s all it had been since Cas had stumbled into his life.

It’s not like he could really blame him either; in fact Dean was surprised that he’d managed to keep hold of Cas for this long. But infidelity was a fairly new concept to him; with no real relationships besides this one and Lisa – and she was never the type to be unfaithful – he had no idea how to deal with it. All he knew was that it fucking hurt that he might not be enough for Cas anymore in _any_ capacity.

The thought of Cas cheating on him was one that he couldn’t shake and so by the time he got to the boardroom table, his iron-clad resolve of not taking anyone’s shit today was only further fortified. If anybody even _thought_ about asking, they’d get a fist in their face.

 

***

A couple of hours – and a pointless ‘why is Crowley such a douchebag’ meeting – later, Dean was just out of the shower, towel wrapped around his waist, water droplets clinging to his hair and eyelashes, dripping all over the kitchen floor – Cas would kill him if he didn’t clear it up, so petulantly, he left it – thinking about making himself a sandwich, when he heard the doorbell and mentally rolled his eyes.

_Not a fucking moment’s peace._

He yanked open the door, expecting to see one of the Prospects standing there – they were still too scared of Dean to just wander in like every other fucker seemed too – but instead he was greeted by the sight of a pretty red-head who stared at his naked chest like it held all the answers to questions she’d been waiting years to ask.

She looked vaguely familiar, but Dean couldn’t quite process how.

“Can I help you?”

“Um…” She stammered, really trying hard not to stare. Her eyes moved from his torso to his face for the first time since he’d opened the door and she flushed red. “Oh God, that’s not better.” She muttered and looked completely away.

Dean smirked. It had been a long while since he’d had this kind of effect on anyone. Apparently he didn’t even do it for Cas anymore, so he may have basked in the attention a little bit longer than was strictly necessary.

“Dean-o!”

He looked past the woman and when he saw her companion, he realised who she was.

_Holy shit, it’s Thanksgiving already?_

He clicked his fingers. “Anna, right?”

“Yeah.” She smiled bashfully at him and Dean was beginning to see the family resemblance in her beautiful doe eyes.

Gabriel appeared in the doorway next to her and whistled as he looked Dean up and down. “Lookin’ good Dean-o. Hope our Cassie appreciates just how lucky he is.”

Dean’s smile faltered a little. Apparently not.

Gabriel didn’t seem to notice and he pushed past Dean into the house, dropping their bags in a heap on the floor. “Wow, this place is massive. Like a damned mansion!”

He turned back to Dean. “What can I do to get you to dump our brother and shack up with me? I swear, I can do things with my tongue that Cassie hasn’t even thought of.” He waggled his tongue in a vulgar demonstration.

“Gabriel!” Anna admonished, but Dean waved it aside.

“Don’t worry about it; I’m slowly getting used to Gabe. He might be the only person on the planet who enjoys innuendos more than I do.”

Anna smiled politely, plainly still embarrassed by her brother’s behaviour.

_Wait ‘til she hears about Cas._

Speaking of, he should probably go wake his boyfriend. After the meeting, he’d checked in on him, but he was in the middle of their bed, doing the cute snuffle-snore thing he did and Dean didn’t have the heart to wake him up for work. “Okay, well I guess I’ll show you to your rooms and stuff, let you get settled and I’d better put some clothes on.”

Gabriel leered. “Oh please don’t feel obliged to cover up on our account. The scenery around here is all fields. You’re the only decent thing to look at for miles around.”

***

Castiel had must have managed to doze off at some point, because when he next woke up it was to the sound of his brother’s loud voice echoing through the house about how amazing and big the place was, and Castiel was up and out of the bed in a blind panic in about two seconds flat.

_Fuck!_

He was supposed to have been at the library today too.

_Shit fuck._

He quickly grabbed for his phone to get in touch with Ava, and saw that there was already a text from her, probably cursing him out for not being there to take over her morning shift.

But no. It simply said, ‘Get well soon.’

He frowned; he hadn’t been ill.

Then realisation dawned. Dean must have phoned in sick for him. Which was kind of presumptuous, but more importantly, enormously sweet; especially after how Cas had been with him the night before.

He probably had some making up to do.

When he set his phone back down, he noticed the glass of water and a couple of painkillers on the nightstand.

_Definitely_ had some making up to do.

He’d gone to bed fully dressed last night, so he stumbled out of the bedroom and careened straight into Dean who was wearing nothing but a white fluffy towel around his hips. He looked like Cas’s dream come true; all smooth muscle and tattoos, and to say that he was regretting pushing him away last night was a serious understatement.

“Hi Cas,” He sounded subdued and Castiel winced. Goddammit, Dean was the last person who he wanted to hurt. “Err, Gabe and Anna are here.” He indicated down the hallway to the other bedrooms. “I’ve got a drop to do, so I just need to get some clothes from the bedroom, is that okay? I’ll try to be back in time for the dinner tonight though.”

Cas’s heart ached. Of-fucking-course it was okay. It was Dean’s house.

“Sure,” Cas nodded, trying to smile warmly, despite it feeling like his heart was shattering into a million pieces. This wasn’t _his Dean_.

“Thanks.” Dean moved back to allow Cas to pass, but Castiel stood stock still. When Dean looked at him questioningly he held out his arms.

“The toll is one hug.”

Dean snorted out a laugh that seemed to be equal parts relief and humour before he stepped into Cas’s embrace. He was all warmth and strength and Cas buried his face in the damp skin of Dean’s neck. “I’m so sorry.” He seemed to be saying that a lot lately.

It came out muffled, but Dean heard, because he felt some of the tension drain from his boyfriend’s arms.

“Me too baby.”

Cas released a breath that he hadn’t realised he was holding in. He called him baby again. All was right with the world. They would be okay; Cas would apologise and pull his shit together for the next time-

He felt a fresh wave of nausea at the prospect of ‘next time’. It was inevitable, but it didn’t mean he had to think about it for the next couple of days whilst he spent time with the people he loved. He resolved there and then to stow his crap for the next 72 hours and be the perfect boyfriend and brother. He owed them all that much at least. And really, how hard could it be?

He growled when Dean tried to pull away and his boyfriend huffed a small laugh. “I’ve really gotta get going though babe. Can’t miss this fucking delivery.”

***

It was no secret that Dean didn’t like doing business with the Djinns. They were nothing more than a lazy bunch of gang-bangers who were definitely more bad than good for their community, so it was with a heavy heart that Dean had agreed to sell the Russian guns to them. With most of the other MC’s decimated by Pellegrino, they had to look further afield for their buyers these days.

It didn’t help that their leader – Mitch Campbell– was a surly old man with racist tattoos and a caustic personality to match. He could sense the unease rolling off Sam and it was setting his teeth on edge.

In the spirit of fighting fire with fire, Dean had let Bobby take point on this little agreement set up at one of the Djinns warehouses, because even in his less acerbic moments, Bobby was still more than a match for the Djinn leader.

“Do you want the guns or not Campbell?” The old man was way past the point of pleasantries and Dean wondered if he would be as cantankerous as his surrogate dad at his age. Probably worse if Cas kept giving him the damned run-around.

The answer Campbell gave was all at once lost amongst the sounds of motorcycle engines roaring up the gravel driveway, which was very swiftly followed by gunfire.

Dean ducked down behind his bike; goddamn, if he had to rebuild it again, he was going to be sorely pissed off. To his left, Sam and Benny were behind the van with about 50K worth of guns in it and Dean had the sinking feeling that he was about to lose his money.

As he fired off a couple of shots, he took the time to check for the patches. Same one that he’d seen a month or so back at the house. Pellegrino’s guys. Though why he had an MC under his charge when he was fucking Mafia, Dean genuinely had no clue.

Bobby was still out in the open, shooting blindly and Dean began to think that he and Cas were conspiring to put him in an early fucking grave.

“Bobby, you stupid old coot, get behind some fucking cover!” The Djinn were sensible enough to be using their big expensive-looking  SUV’s as protection, though Campbell was sending Dean one Hell of a dark look. Dean flashed him a cheeky smile and a shrug before he was darting out, grabbing Bobby’s arm – ignoring the old man’s indignant grunt – and pulling him back behind the relative shelter of his Triumph.

“Dean!” Sam shouted, distracting Dean from giving Bobby a fucking earful. “How the fuck could he have possibly known that this deal was going down?”

Dean knew straight away who his brother was referring to. Pellegrino. A-fucking-gain.

It was actually a good point. They’d been super careful with trackers in the crates, just in case – it wasn’t like the Russians to fuck them over anyway – and the only people who knew about the meet were here getting fucking shot at. Well and Crowley and Cas too. Cas obviously wasn’t an issue, and Crowley? Well Dean seriously doubted that even Crowley was stupid enough to bite the hand that feeds right now.

That only really left the Djinn, though in all fairness they were looking as shocked as Dean and the others, and Campbell was shouting for them to get in the cars and get the fuck out.

Which would leave the four LMC members to fend off fifteen or so of Pellegrino’s guys. They could probably jump in the van and get the fuck out of there, but Dean was getting way too old for high speed chases and if they happened to go past a patrol car with the aforementioned stack of guns? Well, Dean would be back inside so fast that his feet wouldn’t touch the ground.

So really, it left them with one option.

Fight.

_Dammit, it’s never flight._

***

“Hey,” Dean smiled at his boyfriend exhaustedly as soon as he was through the door. It was a tired, utterly worn-out smile, but Cas didn’t seem to care; He was already in Dean’s arms, pressing himself close, clinging to him like his life depended on it. Dean was covered in dirt, grime and sweat, but that didn’t faze Cas either. He glanced around, listening carefully for any signs of Cas’s family being in the house. Besides the low hum of the TV, there was nothing.

“Where are your brother and sister babe?”

  
Cas squeezed harder. “They were hungry so they went to the restaurant without us. I didn’t want them to miss the reservations.”

_Fuck._ “Shit, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Cas shrugged as if it didn’t matter, though Dean knew how much Cas had been looking forward to their visit; getting to spend time with people who didn’t break the law as a standard. Maybe some sense of normality would do him good.

“Have we got time to catch up to them?”

Castiel shook his head, his stubble scratching against Dean’s gross shirt. “They left a couple of hours ago. They’ll probably be on their way back in half an hour or so.”

“Why didn’t you go with them babe?”

“Wanted to wait in for you,” Castiel replied, pulling away, tilting his face up a little to look at Dean. “Wanted to make sure that you were okay. I know that you wouldn’t have been late unless something had gone wrong.”

Dean stroked a hand up and down Cas’s back. Yeah, something had definitely gone fucking wrong all right. On the up side, he was only about 30K down instead of the predicted 50.

_Every cloud._

“Yeah, was kind of bad.”

“Wanna tell me?”

“Sure. Do you wanna eat in? We can order a take-away or something? Watch a movie together?”

Cas’s face seemed to brighten and Dean could feel tendrils of hope twisting through the fatigue and the sadness. Maybe he and Cas would be okay. Stronger together than apart and all that.

“Order two of whatever you’re having,” Dean placed a kiss to Cas’s forehead and stepped away. “I’m going to get cleaned up, I’ll be a couple of minutes okay baby?”

Cas nodded, still smiling brightly and with a renewed sense of optimism, Dean ran up the stairs two at a time.

Before he even got to the bedroom, he was stripping out of his disgusting shirt; pretty appreciative that Gabriel and Anna weren’t still around.  From what Cas had told him, Gabe was more than aware of the things that Dean did, whereas Anna… not so much. Cas had wanted to keep it that way to stop her from worrying needlessly about him and Dean could get on board with that. Seeing him in this state may have clued her in a little more than any of them wanted.

On the nightstand, Castiel’s phone chimed with what was probably a text message. Usually, he’d ignore it, and he sort of dithered on the spot, morally unsure where he stood in regard to reading his boyfriend’s texts. On the one hand, it may serve as valuable insight into Cas’s state of mind right now, but on the other… well it was a real breach of trust.

But he needed to know.

He thumbed across the screen and tapped on the message.

**Unknown: Thank you for your ‘assistance’ yesterday, Castiel. It was greatly appreciated. Today was much easier to get through thanks to your help. I will call next time I need you.**

Dean’s brain started ticking over at a thousand miles an hour; what the fuck? It _could_ be anyone, but in all reality there was only one person it almost definitely _was_.

Pellegrino.

He sank to the bed, frozen, thinking about what it meant, until he finally put two and two together and got what he thought was a perfect four; him getting out of prison on a goddamned whim, Cas’s erratic behaviour, the raid on their drop and now this text.

Fuck.

It felt like the whole world stopped and in that moment, Dean realised that he had _so_ much more to lose than he’d ever imagined.

Because there was only one logical conclusion.

Cas – for whatever spurious justification – had turned fucking rat.

And there was only one thing that happened to rats in the LMC world.


	8. Chapter Eight - Poem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is a song by Taproot
> 
>  
> 
> I actually don't think that I can apologise for this enough!

Dean decided to keep the text to himself. At least until the next time Cas disappeared.

He needed confirmation before he acted. He owed Cas more than just going off a text and coincidence. And it wasn’t like he could just confront his boyfriend with it either, ‘Hey babe, so have you been ratting on us to Pellegrino, ‘cause you know that we have to kill rats, right?’

After a one-on-one in-depth Q&A session with Crowley that ended with minimal bloodshed – well, at least for anybody who was important i.e., Dean – it was discovered that Crowley knew about Pellegrino’s recent employment of ‘someone’ right around the time of Dean’s release. Of _course_ he did. Because what Crowley kept from the LMC could be written in a tome the size of Dean’s fucking house.

The only reason that the limey bastard wasn’t dead yet was because he could still be useful. _Could_ being the operative word, but at least Dean was relatively sure that Crowley wasn’t the rat, so that bought him some time. Until he ceased to be of use.

Thanksgiving had been beyond awkward; Cas was bruised as fuck from his damn bar fight and Dean was totally on edge. It only took Anna innocently bringing up the subject of Balthazar’s death to send Dean into another tailspin, beating a hasty retreat to the bunker before he flipped out completely and demanded that Cas tell him the fucking truth.

It was also the first time Cas had seen his sister since their relationship had begun and so she was pretty shocked by the scars and tattoo adorning Cas’s arms. Eventually she’d work it out and realise – like everyone else was beginning to – that Dean had utterly ruined Cas in most of the ways that mattered.

And that was starting to bother him more than it used to.

A while back, he was kind of proud – in a twisted way – that he’d corrupted someone like Cas, or at least brought something out of him that others hadn’t seen before, but now?

It was backfiring on him.

The thing was, Dean didn’t doubt for a second that Cas would have ratted for the right reasons, i.e. getting Dean out of prison, and that was the real shitter of the situation. The very few occasions that he’d encountered rats in the past, they’d turned because of their own selfish greed, not to get their dumbass boyfriend out of jail.

It wouldn’t make a difference to the Club though. The vast majority would want him dead anyway – maybe even a couple of the Officers too – despite their love for Cas. He’d endangered the lives of them all to save Dean and whilst Dean was universally loved, it wouldn’t sit well with any of them.

The needs of the one did _not_ outweigh the needs of the many.

It wasn’t until a couple of weeks after Christmas and into the new year that Cas disappeared again, spinning some bullshit about there being problems at the library. Dean waved him off with a tight smile and a kiss to the forehead.

He contemplated following him, but decided to try one more test. They had a drop tomorrow, but this time Dean would be ready.

***

Since Thanksgiving, Dean had been weird. Not suspicious or unpleasant, just _weird._

It was hard to put a finger on. When Cas went to kiss him, Dean always seemed to keep his mouth firmly closed, only allowing pecks and whenever they hugged, it was off-kilter, like he was trying to distance himself, without actually physically doing it.

It had taken Cas a while to notice because of his own demons that he was trying his best to outrun, but those fuckers were like wild wolves, always in his peripheral vision, threatening to rip him apart so he could never tear his thoughts away from them for long.

Therefore it wasn’t until around Christmas that he realised it had been a long time since they’d had sex. There had been hand jobs and blow jobs, but actual penetrative sex? Not since the night before his first kill order.

It was only _now_ striking him as odd though. Dean wasn’t one for withholding sex – not that Cas was either – but the timing was a coincidence that couldn’t be ignored. He’d known how wounded Dean had been that night he went to the Roadhouse after Paul, but he couldn’t still be harbouring that hurt now, could he?

It was something that he’d try to talk about when he got home tonight after his second hit order. He just hoped with all his heart that this asshole was someone who deserved to die because he wasn’t sure that his sanity could do this over and over again to people who may not have been entirely innocent, but certainly didn’t deserve to die.

_People like Dean._

Was that Pellegrino’s point? Trying to show him how easily he could snuff out Dean’s life? How it didn’t make a difference if he was guilty of any real transgression, as long as Pellegrino felt fucking offended?

If so it was a redundant lesson. Castiel was already well aware of the thinness of the ice both he and Dean were on with Pellegrino. He’d made that abundantly clear with the Balthazar thing. And now this.

 

***

 

Dean’s fist collided with the small window in the kitchen door, sending a shooting pain up his arm and glass shattering around himself. He was dripping blood all over the floor and Cas would be mad, but quite frankly Cas could go fuck himself.

“So, the fucking drop – once again – was a complete fucking disaster! Fuck!” He was so angry and so fucking frightened, because Cas’s little trip yesterday had been accompanied by another similar text message. And again, Pellegrino’s guys had burst in on their deal. There was no doubt now.

Of course, his brother had no idea.

“Woah, Jesus!” Sam rushed over to his side, grabbing a clean dish cloth and binding it tightly around Dean’s bloody hand, stemming the blood flow. “Dean it’s just money dude. Yeah it sucks, but maybe we should lay low with what we have left until this thing with Pellegrino dies down.”

Dean scoffed. If only it were that simple. At least with his suspicions this morning, he’d made a point of arranging their positions at the drop so that Dean was right next to the van, able to yank out an AK-47 as soon as he heard the roar of engines. They may have lost the deal, but the weapons were still theirs.

“We’ll figure something out Dean.” Sam intoned, pulling the bloodied cloth away from Dean’s hand to check for glass.

“Yeah,” Dean muttered, not looking at his brother, choosing instead to stare straight ahead where he could hear the front door opening. It would more than likely be Cas, though right now Dean wasn’t sure how he supposed to act around him. He couldn’t just pretend, but he wasn’t going to flat out accuse him either.

“Hey babe…” Cas stopped dead in his tracks seeing the broken kitchen window and Dean’s bloody hand. “The fuck happened?”

Dean narrowed his eyes at his…whatever he was now and didn’t reply. Sam looked up, first at Dean then at Cas, eyebrows raised. “Am I missing something here?”

“If you are, then I definitely am.” Cas replied, staring at Dean who was childishly refusing to meet his eyes now.

“Dean?” And then he could feel the eyes of his brother and… Castiel on him.

“We had yet another drop ruined by Pellegrino.” Dean sighed, looking down at the hand Sam was carefully and very gently pulling glass slivers out of. It was irritating Dean, making him agitated with how daintily Sam was doing it.

He didn’t miss Cas’s flinch at the mention of the mafia boss’s name though.

“Yeah?” He cleared his throat. “What happened?”

“Well his guys turned up and shot at our guys. Pretty fucking simple really Castiel. It’s lucky nobody died.”

Sam squeezed Dean’s hand hard enough to hurt. Dean hissed.

“Err, yeah.” Cas looked so unbelievably distraught, that for a second – just a second – Dean considered going back through the data he’d been collating in his mind and re-evaluating whether he may have got his wires crossed somewhere along the line. “I’m just gonna-“ He gestured at the stairs over his shoulder with his thumb and he was backing away, looking on the verge of tears, and Dean closed his eyes in agony.

_God fucking dammit._

It was silent for a few moments in the kitchen until Sam spoke. “What the fuck is up with you Dean? I mean, I know we’re having a shitty time of it, but there’s no need to talk to Cas like that. He didn’t deserve it.”

“Sammy, you don’t know jack shit, so until you do I suggest you keep the fuck out of it.”

His brother suddenly flung Dean’s hand away, making Dean cry out.

_Fuck, that fucking hurt!_

“Fine. You wanna be a cunt to everyone? Go for it. Keep pushing everyone away like you have for the couple of months Dean, because we’re not all gonna be as tenacious as Cas and stick around for your bullshit.”

It was only when Dean heard the front door slamming shut, signalling his brother’s angry exit that he allowed himself to finally slump against the sink, hand throbbing like a goddamn bitch and thoughts racing at a hundred miles an hour.

Next time Cas went out on one of his magical mystery tours, Dean was gonna be right there behind him.

***

Cas hadn’t gotten a chance to speak to Dean when he got back, and truth be told, he hadn’t really wanted to. He just wanted to drown his sorrows and _forget._ At least he hadn’t needed to see Pellegrino this time. He’d simply got a text with the address and a couple of pictures and details attached.

He figured that’s how it would be from now on. It suited him fine; the more time he spent with the man, the more he was tempted to kill him and that wouldn’t end well for himself or the club.

At least he was handling it better than the first one. Outwardly at least. Inwardly, he was still a mess; still struggling to maintain the façade; though Dean either wasn’t noticing or didn’t care – too wrapped up in his own damned mood swings.

Dean’s behaviour though. It was still a cause for major concern, especially the night that their drop went wrong; he got Dean’s frustration, he really did, but what else could he do? He was already doing the best he could to keep Pellegrino off Dean’s back in terms of jail time; he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to take on the extra strain that keeping him away from Dean entirely would entail.

Maybe it would be worth an ask.

He had just sat down, about to eat his dinner – alone again, because fuck knows where Dean was – when his phone buzzed against his thigh in his jeans pocket.

**Unknown: Castiel, I appreciate that this is short notice, but I require your ‘assistance’ as soon as you can i.e. tonight. It’s urgent. Details to follow.**

 

 

Goddammit, this was unusual. So far, all his orders/missions/hits? had been spread out over at least a month. Now, having one a couple of days later? Seemed more than a little odd, but what choice did he have?

_Fucking none._

He scribbled out a note for Dean – not that he would probably read it – and then he was off out the door, grabbing his – Dean’s, though he still hadn’t asked for it back – leather jacket off the back of the couch as he went.

 

***

 

Dean pulled up several hundred yards away from the doors to the warehouse that Cas had gone into, not wanting to alert his boyfriend to his presence with the low rumble of his Impala’s engine. It hadn’t been easy to tail Cas in the car rather than his bike, as Cas zipped between cars on the I-35, but it was slightly less conspicuous from a decent distance.

He’d trailed his... whatever, to this place; just outside of Goddard. A dilapidated warehouse so run down that Dean was surprised that someone as high and mighty as Pellegrino would be seen here.

He crept up the pathway slowly, gun drawn, sticking close to the trees in case someone came running out unexpectedly. Cas’s bike was parked round the side, but there was a Merc parked out front; belonging to someone rich who – Dean suspected – was almost definitely Pellegrino.

Dean hadn’t really formulated much of a plan on the way in; much too concerned with what he was going to find Cas doing – and who with – so right now he was mainly just desperately hoping that he would be proven wrong. Though, he was pretty sure that he’d try to get at least one shot off at Pellegrino before he was killed.

He slipped in through the side-door which was open a small crack. It allowed for a thin stream of light to trickle in once he was actually inside and Dean was just about able to see that it was some kind of office. He could make out a door on the opposite wall, so he gingerly crossed the room, watching where he put his feet in case of any surprises.

He swallowed hard as he pushed the door open a little, unsure of what he was going to find.

What he was greeted with was _definitely_ not what he had been expecting.

In the middle of the empty warehouse floor, there was a body – man or woman, he couldn’t tell, they were face down – in a pool of blood, a nice neat bullet wound in their back.

That wasn’t the part that shocked Dean the most though; after all he was used to bodies and blood. No, it was the man whose back was facing him, leaning over the body, crouched down on his haunches, gun in one hand with the other shakily pulling through his scruffy dark hair.

It was Cas. His Cas. Librarian Cas who fucking fainted when Dean shot someone; Cas who gave him Hell for not telling him everything; Cas who had endured Alistair because of Dean; Cas who was a fucking deadeye with a gun in his hand. Cas who was apparently some kind of hit man now as well as a rat.

Truly intertwined with Pellegrino.

_Fucking Hell._

What the fuck was he supposed to do now? This was _Cas._

With a shaky hand, Dean raised his revolver. Cas was a rat, rats had to die; it was the first rule of their – and all other one-percenter’s – MC. But it was _Cas_ , the man who couldn’t cook for shit, the man who shook his head at Dean’s gross jokes.

The man who he fucking loved so ferociously that it frightened him sometimes.

_FUCK._

He aimed his Colt at the back of Cas’s head, finger hovering over the trigger, sweating like a virgin at the prom and his breaths coming in short panicked bursts.

What the fuck was supposed to do?

…

…

…

“Cas.”

 


	9. Chapter Nine - Between Heaven and Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is a Firewind song.
> 
> Have some porn!  
> Mixed POV's towards the end.
> 
> Also, thank you guys. To every one of you. I fucking love you all. All your comments make me go fewijnsofjkfsapoflkgonodjsak. (Accurate representation).

“Cas.”

His boyfriend started violently, apparently totally unaware that he had been followed. Which was slightly worrying for a supposed professional hit man. _Anyone_ could have tailed him and hurt him or fucking worse.

The irony that he was currently holding a gun to Cas’s head was not lost on Dean.

_Goddammit Cas._

“Dean?” Cas was standing up and facing Dean within seconds, disbelief warring with fear on his features.

“That’d be the one.” Dean walked out onto the warehouse floor properly, but stayed close to the wall, gun shakily – though he’d deny it forever – trained on Castiel. “You know, your boyfriend. The one you’re _supposed_ to be in love with.”

Castiel looked utterly confused. “What?” Which quickly morphed into anger, when realisation dawned. “Did you fucking _follow_ me here?”

Dean lifted his shoulder in a shrug. “What does it matter? I’m here. You’re here and apparently somebody’s trigger man, though in all honesty I suspect it’s the same _somebody_ you’re feeding our information to.”

There was a small pause before Castiel blurted back, “The fuck are you talking about?”

“Come on Cas, you’ve been privy to the information, you know how every shipment of ours keeps on getting broken into, Pellegrino’s guys showing up etc.”

“And you think I’m the one whispering in Pellegrino’s ear?” Cas’s flat tone was indicative of the seriousness of the situation. Normally he’d already be ranting and raving.

“Well, if the texts on your phone are anything to go by…”

Cas’s jaw dropped. He looked like Dean had just told him the moon was made out of cheese. And expected Cas to believe it. “You’ve been reading my messages?”

_And here comes the rage._

Dean said nothing, allowing Cas to rant. It didn’t change a thing.

_Yeah, you keep telling yourself that._

“Jesus fucking Christ Dean, how many times do I have to prove myself to you? I swear to fucking God! You never learn; you’re still a goddamned over-protective asshole! I don’t need you spying on me!”

“Apparently not” Dean replied drily, gesturing to the dead body with a quirk jerk of his gun. “I’m fully a-fucking-ware that you can look after yourself Cas, but when you kept disappearing on me? With no explanation? Are you seriously telling me that if the situations were reversed that you wouldn’t have been suspicious?”

“Yeah!” Cas conceded heatedly. “Yeah, I fucking get it. But that doesn’t give you the right-”

“And as it turns out it’s even worse than you cheating on me.”

That stopped Cas dead, rage evaporating. “You thought I’d been cheating on you?” The heartbroken look on his face almost broke Dean’s resolve. _Almost_.

“Well, yeah. At first.” Dean shrugged nonchalantly as if the thought of it hadn’t ripped him apart. As if it hadn’t got him questioning everything about their relationship.

“You thought I’d do that to you?”

“Well, yeah Cas. I mean, here you are standing over a fucking dead body. You’ve certainly been lying about some stuff, even if not cheating.”

Castiel stood there for a moment, apparently wavering between bursting into tears and launching an attack on Dean.

“I did it for you.” He said suddenly, meeting Dean’s eyes and looking so sincere that it physically hurt Dean to stare back into the baby blues that had always seemed so open, so genuine.

_Not so much, anymore._

“What?”

“I did it for you. All of it.”

And that was it. No. Cas did _not_ get to pull that card. “You lied to my fucking face? You ratted on me and the club? You snuck around behind my fucking back _for me_? Tell me how that works, because I’m having some serious fucking issues with your reasoning right now!”

“I have not ratted on you and the damn Club!”

“Well somebody has, and right now you’re the prime fucking suspect!”

“I promise you that I haven’t!” He held his hands out in a placating gesture and dropped to a crouch to very carefully place his gun onto the concrete floor. When he straightened back up again, he kicked it with his boot, sending it skittering away, out of reach.

“Yeah,” Dean snorted derisively. “Because your promises mean precisely fuck all to me right now.”

He could see Cas’s fists clenching at his sides.

_Bet he wishes he kept the damn weapon now._

“You fucking hypocritical bastard! I got myself carved up by a fucking psychopath because of your damned lies! Granted, maybe they were lies of omission, but nevertheless, here I am, scarred to fuck, nobody else will ever touch me again and you’re saying that _my_ promises are meaningless?”

Dean chuckled humourlessly, lowering his gun, keeping it aimed at the floor. “Ah now we’re getting to the truth.”

“What the _fuck_ does that even mean?”

“It means that you hold me responsible for what happened with Alistair, I fucking knew it.”

“No. I made the decisions and choices that lead me there. I was the one who wanted you and I should have known better; I did know better! But then you and your stupid fucking face happened and your damn wink when you got on that shit bike of yours and that was it! As if I was gonna stay away from you!”

Dean felt like someone had taken an ice pick to his heart. Goddamn it. If he’d just left Cas alone, then they wouldn’t fucking be here. Well, obviously, but Cas would be dating some nice normal guy who deserved him and Dean would be… well still fucking nameless, faceless groupies. They’d both be safe.

_Not happy though. Not in love._

At a loss for anything else to say, he went with, “Jesus Christ Cas! How the Hell could you do this to me? Put me in this fucking position where I have to choose between killing you or the Club killing us both? Because they will if I protect you!”

Castiel threw his head back and laughed, it was dark as fuck and it sent a shiver up Dean’s spine. He’d never seen Cas like this before; was this how he survived Alistair by becoming this total – for want of a better word – badass that seemed to just not give a shit? “As fucking _if_ you’re gonna kill me.”

Dean cocked his revolver. “Care to place money on that Cas?”

“Yeah.” Castiel grinned in a way that was so unlike him. “Yeah I will. In fact, I’ll go one better. I’ll place my life on it.”

Dean flashed a sarcastic smile. “That’s a risky move, considering.”

“Considering what?”

“That you’re a fucking rat!”

“I am not!”

“Don’t give me that shit Cas.”

“It’s not shit, it’s the truth. But you know what? Go ahead and fucking shoot me if it’ll make you feel better.”

“You flippant fucking asshole! How could anything about this situation make me feel better? The love of my fucking life – the one I trusted with _everything_ – has been betraying me for fuck knows how long!”

“Stop saying I fucking betrayed you, or I swear to God Dean.”

“Or you’ll what Cas? I mean, I gotta know, were you in on it with Pellegrino from the start?” It was perhaps the stupidest thing he’d ever said, but his brain-to-mouth functionality was not running at its full potential. He was hurt, confused and really seriously tired of fighting everyone and everything.

“What?” Castiel exploded, taking another couple of steps closer to Dean. “Are you even listening to yourself? Oh yeah, I arranged for myself to be fucking tortured just so I could rat on you? Jesus fucking Christ, you dumb asshole!”

“It wouldn’t surprise me!”

“Oh that is it.”

Castiel rushed him and Dean stood his ground, letting it happen. It _needed_ to happen. His boyfriend grabbed the front of his shirt in his fists, and pushed Dean backwards, his head cracking sharply off the brick wall. Dean's gun was swiftly wrestled from his hand and deposited somewhere that he didn’t get a chance to see, because the next thing he knew was that he could taste copper on his tongue and Cas was just winding up for the second blow.

“I did it for you! I did all of it – for you, you ungrateful asshole!”

Normally Dean wouldn’t fight back, wouldn’t intentionally harm a hair on Cas’s head, but the circumstances were far from normal, so the hit that came into contact with Cas’s cheekbone snapped his head to the side.

“Gee thanks, Cas. Next time I need someone to fucking lie to me at every turn, I’ll be sure to give you a call!”

Castiel shook him hard, pain shooting up Dean’s spine, before his fist connected with Dean’s abdomen, making him hunch over, gasping for air. “Fuck you Winchester.”

Dean tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a wheezing pant. “You wish. You’ve always been the bitch in this relationship.” It was untrue, of course it was untrue. Cas may have always bottomed, but he still always had Dean by the balls.

Cas’s eyes were hard and cold as ice when Dean managed to straighten up to face him again, breathing still erratic. “Yeah? Say it again…I fucking _dare_ you.”

Dean smirked and leaned into Cas’s space, breath ghosting over his lips. Whilst Castiel had always been temperamental at the best of times, right now he looked fucking murderous. In fact, he _had just murdered someone_ , so Dean should really have been keeping the fuck quiet, ‘cause _this_ Cas? This wasn’t his normal Cas.

Still, Dean was nothing, if not ballsy to the point of stupidity. “You, Castiel Novak, have _always_ been my little bitch. Since the moment I fucking met you. You always take it so prettily up the ass for me.”

Cas – in a move that Dean probably should have seen coming – twisted his fingers in the hair at the nape of Dean’s neck and he gripped tightly, yanking backwards, exposing Dean’s throat. Dean had to fight every instinct in his body not to strike Cas in the temple to get him to release his hold. Cas needed the illusion of control in this moment; Dean could do that.

Though if it was _actually_ an illusion remained to be seen.

Cas continuously cut right to the heart of him, and he’d always been a little wary of that. Right from the off he’d known how to play Dean like a pro and it intimidated him; intrigued him. He was used to the one doing the playing; not the one getting played.

Right now though, Cas looked like he was on the verge of laughing that filthy laugh again; he was breathless, bleeding and Dean had never seen anything so fucking _breathtaking_. It was in that moment that he saw Cas’s _real_ strength, both inner and outer. It scared him as much as it thrilled him and he couldn’t help the little whine that escaped his throat when the back of Cas’s hand brushed against his rapidly hardening dick.

“I thought so,” Cas’s smirk twisted into something that Dean had never seen before. Had he done this to him? Made him into this? Because it was equal parts hot and terrifying. “Well Dean, looks like tonight you’re _my_ little bitch.”

 “Cas.” Dean’s voice was low, all whisky and cigarettes and it sent a small shiver of pleasure down Castiel’s spine. His grip on Dean’s hair tightened, thinking about what to do next. This man drove him so fucking crazy.

His name being uttered like a prayer was apparently all the encouragement Cas needed. He released Dean’s hair, grabbed the leather of his kutte and sharply turned him, roughly shoving him face first against the crumbling brickwork, one arm pushing at the back of Dean’s neck, holding him still, keeping him in place as his other hand went to Dean’s belt and in record time Cas had it undone, jeans unzipped and pushed halfway to his knees.

It wasn’t until Dean heard the clank of a belt, accompanied soon after by the sounds of Cas spitting, then slicking himself up, that Dean fully appreciated what was about to happen. He knew that he could stop this; knew that despite the rage Cas was in, he would never dare to violate Dean in such a way, but he also had a feeling that the two of them needed this; Cas needed to show Dean that he was strong – though in reality, out of the two of them, he was the one who always had been – and Dean needed to just fucking _trust_ without thinking.

He was sick of thinking and it leading to getting shit wrong.

Cas took his cock in hand, guiding it to Dean’s entrance, inhaling a deep steadying breath before he slowly pushed in – much more gently than Dean deserved right now – the other hand moving from Dean's neck to under his shirt, on his waist, digging into the flesh there, to hold him still and it was only when he bottomed out, his hips pressed against Dean’s ass, that either of them let out a moan; Dean’s was more pain than pleasure, but Cas’s sounded virtually pornographic.

“ _Fuck_ , Dean.”

Usually, Dean would have made some quip about ‘fucking Dean’ being the general idea, but Cas was actually inside him and he’d be lying if he said that it wasn’t making his brain short circuit. And then Cas pulled out a couple of inches, before forcefully shoving back in, making Dean cry out and tighten incrementally around him.

_Holy fuck._

Cas knew what a momentous occasion this was. Despite everything, Dean was still trusting him with something that he’d never given anyone else. It spoke volumes about his boyfriend and how much he’d wanted to believe in Cas’s innocence. The shift in their relationship was irreparable now, no matter what happened in the black hole that was their future.

Cas pushed a hand into Dean’s hair again, yanking his head to the side. “Still think I’m a bitch Dean?”

Dean huffed out a low laugh, hands braced against the wall, grinding onto Cas’s cock, taunting. “Until you show me otherwise…yeah. C’mon…Cas…Gotta be some anger in there towards me…”

Castiel grunted in satisfaction when he shoved his boyfriend extra hard against the cold brick, teeth sinking into Dean’s neck; relishing the breathless groan emitted from Dean’s lips. He angled his hips down and slammed up into Dean, both their bodies jolting with the force of it.

_God, so fucking good._

Dean had considered this before; of course he had, but he’d been petrified of the memories that it could potentially bring flooding back; expecting some kind of horrific Alistair hallucination, but with Cas now it never came; instead, Dean could barely think at all, only able to focus on the feeling that it was _Cas_ inside him and around him; the man who had never let him down.

Until now at least.

God, was that what this was? A farewell fuck, because Dean didn’t think he could stand it if it was.

He had to know.

“Cas,” He panted, turning his head to the side again to try and see his boyfriend, relishing the small stabs of pain from the rough wall biting into his cheek and neck every time Cas shoved further inside him, “Cas… I gotta know baby…”

“No.” Castiel snapped, as he thrust in harder and deeper, digging his nails into Dean’s flesh hard enough to draw blood; it was anchoring him to reality, because he didn’t think he’d ever felt something so damned _good_ in his entire life. “I’d never do that to you. You stupid…” Thrust. “Stubborn.” Cruel twist of his hips. Dean cried out. “Bastard.”

The feeling of Dean writhing like this because of him was one that he would never get used to; something he never thought he’d get to experience. But here he was and it was in glorious fucking Technicolor – the dribbles of sweat collecting at the nape of Dean’s neck before they disappeared down the neck of his shirt, the strained, laboured moans spilling from Dean’s lips every time Cas punched his prostate, the overwhelming tightness.

If he died right now, he would die happy, because this right here, was it; the last thing that had them bound. They owned each other in every single conceivable way now and Dean was almost delirious with it. His body hadn’t felt this on fire since… well _ever_ and with Cas fucking into him like a goddamn animal, each rough jab to his prostate was edging Dean closer and closer and it was getting harder and harder not to lose his fucking mind to the pleasure-pain sensations threatening to overwhelm him.

“Don’t fight it Dean…” Cas’s voice sounded so fucking gravelly and low that, really, Dean was fucking helpless against the relentless wave of pleasure that his next words sparked. “Come for me… like a good bitch…”

 _Fuck._  

Dean’s orgasm hit him with the force of a ten-tonne truck and as the heat slowly unfurled in his gut, his vision fuzzing like an untuned tv set, he had a split second to marvel if this was how Cas felt every time, ‘cause if so, no wonder he was so damned clingy in the aftermath. Dean was thinking of adhering himself to Cas permanently if the orgasms were always so fucking earth-shattering from this side.

And then Cas was coming a few faltered thrusts later, with a deep groan that felt like it was ripped from his throat, his entire world narrowing down to that one, single moment between them where absolutely _nothing_ else mattered.

_Two broken halves of a very fucked up whole._

“I did it for you…” Cas panted gracelessly against Dean’s mouth, still rolling his hips through his own orgasm, trying to form a coherent sentence. He _needed_ to make Dean understand. “…All for you.”

_‘I was so fucking afraid that I’d never see your perfect smile again, never get to kiss you again and that terrified me more that I’d like to admit to anyone who isn’t you. I’m not sure that I would have ever recovered if I lost you Cas.’_

“I would have given my life in exchange for yours if that’s what it took to keep you safe.” Cas pressed an awkward kiss to his boyfriend’s bleeding lower lip. “I still would.”

And it was true. Completely and utterly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter after this and then the Epilogue!  
> It's gonna get messy!


	10. Chapter Ten - Angel With A Shotgun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is a song by The Cab. If you don't already know it, it's like the ultimate Destiel song.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for all your comments and stuff again. It means the world to me. Fo' shizzle.

 

Cas told him everything.

Everything that Pellegrino had said to him; he left no details out. Which was why he, Dean and Sammy were currently sitting in Dean’s Impala with a clear view of the Angels headquarters and a bag of AKs in the trunk.

Cas had specifically said that Pellegrino went after the Winchesters, not the LMC, so rightfully there was no way that Dean could bring the others in on this, even though he didn’t doubt for a second that they’d all vote in.

For once they actually had a plan, as tenuous as it may be. Plans made Dean nervous. Things went wrong, things deviated. Things couldn’t turn to shit if there was nothing to stray from.

Unfortunately his stupidly, ridiculously wonderful boyfriend – who he would have to do a fuck of a lot of grovelling to later for even _thinking_ that he would ever betray him – sided with his floppy-haired brother, who was sitting in the back seat, big grin on his face as Dean explained the whole sorry tale.

“You thought Cas was cheating on you?”

“All of that information; lies, murder and mafia and _that’s_ your take away Sammy?”

“Well, come on Dean. He adores you.”

“And so he should, I’m awesome.”

“I’m sitting right fucking here.” Cas grumbled from the passenger seat, but it was halfway affectionate.

Dean threw his boyfriend a lop-sided grin. “Yes you are.” Looking at Cas now, staring out of the window, gun in his lap, bruised cheek, and eyes trained on Pellegrino’s building, it was so hard to remember how different he’d been when Dean had driven him home after that first night when he’d passed out. He’d been so mortified by Dean’s mention of burying bodies that Dean couldn’t help but snort out a laugh.

Now he was the one creating them.

Cas levelled him with a look. “The fuck is up with you Winchester?”

Dean threw him a cocky, salacious wink. “Wanna help me bury some bodies Cas?”

He caught on instantly; his plush lips twitching into a smile. “It’s not Wednesday.”

_God, I fucking love you Cas._

Neither of them were aware of their staring until Sam – mood killer extraordinaire – coughed loudly, effectively shattering the moment.

“Err guys, I hate to ruin your little _thing_ -“

“No you don’t Sammy.” Dean twisted in his seat to face his not-so-little brother, whilst Cas went back to looking out of the window with a slightly amused expression on his face. “What is it?”

“Well, I gotta know. What would you have done?”

Dean frowned, confused. “What?”

“If Cas was the rat. What would you have done?”

He heard the leather of Cas’s seat creaking as he shifted his weight, indicating that he was probably moving closer, eager to hear his answer, but Dean didn’t turn to look at him.

It was a good question. And it was a difficult one to answer; not because he was torn, but the complete opposite. He should feel awful about the decision that he’d made in the instant he’d seen his boyfriend over that dead body, but he wouldn’t, _couldn’t_ feel bad about any choice he made that resulted in Cas.

“I would’ve emptied my safe and got the fuck out of there with Cas before you guys had a chance to catch on. Skipped to fucking Mexico or something.”

He didn’t miss the sharp intake of breath from the seat next to him.              

Sam though, didn’t look in the least bit shocked by the revelation. “So you’d choose Castiel over the Club?”

“Every time.” There would probably be a discussion about his commitment to the Club when he got back; brother or not, undoubtedly Sam would relay this conversation to the others and they’d have to decide whether to take his patch.

Sam hummed thoughtfully, his eyes soft. “Amelia’s pregnant.”

Dean’s face broke out into a genuine smile. “Sammy that’s-“

“Guys.” Castiel suddenly said and Dean turned around and followed Cas’s line of sight. Sure enough, a couple of Pellegrino’s guys in snappy suits were just wandering around the corner towards the late night deli.

“They’re the two who checked me for weapons the first time I came. Though, I’m sure they’ll have a replacement on the door, it at least means there will be two less to deal with.”

“Okay ladies.” Dean cocked his revolver. “Let’s go.”

 

***

 

Getting inside the building hadn’t been hard. Apparently, the two that had disappeared were solely responsible for the weapons check and Pellegrino either was cocky enough to think that he didn’t need them all the time (as in, nobody would be stupid enough to come after him) or he was expecting them. Which from what Cas told him about the man, wouldn’t actually come as a shock.

It made Dean’s heart rate double.

_If it seems too good to be true, then it probably is._

“Here’s where I leave you.” Cas was turning to him in the confined space of the elevator and before Dean could form a response, his boyfriend was crushing their mouths together in a kiss that lacked any trace of finesse; all teeth and tongue and _incredibly_ hot. He panted breathlessly when the kiss broke, “Next floor, big double doors. Can’t miss them. Don’t go getting yourself killed Winchester. I have so many things in mind for making you pay.”

Dean smirked. “Back at ya Novak. I love you.”

God help him, he really fucking did.

Cas smiled crookedly at him, before bending down to grab a couple of AK’s out of the bag by Dean’s feet. “I love you too.” He nodded to Sam. “Keep him safe.” The doors dinged open and then Cas was stepping out onto the fifteenth floor.

“Be fucking careful!” Dean added quickly as the doors closed again and a small amount of fear crept in, seeping along his spine like a draft. What if someone saw Cas before he had a chance to shoot them, what if-

Sam was looking at him sympathetically, clearly knowing what was going through his brother’s head. “He’ll be okay Dean. He’s better with a gun in his hand than we are. No-one will get the jump on him.”

When Cas first announced the plan whilst they were clearing up after themselves – _‘Dean, It’s a fucking murder scene! We can’t just leave DNA evidence everywhere, especially now that – if our plan comes to fruition – Pellegrino won’t be able to clean up after me! You wanna legitimately go back to jail?’_ –  and waiting for Sam to arrive with the guns, Dean had shouted him down, telling him that there was no fucking way he was letting Cas taking on fuck knows how many of Pellegrino’s henchmen by himself.

Of course – as usual – Cas had coaxed Dean around to his way of thinking by threatening to shoot him in the foot and go in without him anyway.

Cas’s argument was that he’d been to the building before; the sixteenth floor both times, but the fifteenth was where the weapons armoury was, and so Cas was going to base himself there. No doubt all the henchmen would already be packing, but Cas could easily out fire them. All he had to do was to stop them from getting to the more sophisticated weapons that they were planning on using themselves if everything went well.

It was maybe only slightly less dangerous than what the Winchesters were doing, but if Dean had had his way, he would’ve chained Cas to the goddamn steering wheel of his Impala.

The elevator doors opened again and the brothers stepped out onto the marble floor, guns out of the bag and at the ready.

The first thing that struck Dean – other than the fucking arctic temperature of the whole building  – was how insanely over-the-top the place was; chandeliers, fucking candle-stick holders, the whole nine. It was a shame really, that they were going to ruin the décor by getting as much Angels’ blood on the walls as possible.

The double doors – the ones that Cas had referred to – opened and then they were walking into some kind of fancy boardroom. There was a massive window that spanned the entire back wall, and to the left there was a closed door. It was the only other one in the room though, so at least they weren’t likely to be ambushed, making for marginally easier defences. The table in the middle of the room was rather opulent and Dean cringed; the guy was seriously over compensating for something.

Pellegrino himself was standing with his back to them at the window, looking down on the not-so bright lights of Wichita, a glass of whisky in his hand. His appearance was far from the scruff drug-dealer they’d met months ago; now he was all clean cut and slicked back hair.

“Sam, Dean. Good to see you again.”

So he had been expecting them. Dean’s stomach lurched. _Cas._ If any of them so much as fucking touched him, Dean was gonna lay waste to the whole fucking lot of them.

_As if we’re not gonna be doing that anyway._

“Yeah, it’s great. Big happy reunion.” Dean muttered impatiently, not quite sure if the answers that Sammy desired were worth the wait. They should be shooting the cunt and getting the fuck out.

“It is you know,” Pellegrino turned around to face them properly, smiling beatifically. “You may not realise, but we do have quite the history.” His voice was calm; too fucking calm.

“Yeah, yeah. Your little bitch boy Tom. Alistair too, we’ve had the run down thanks. Can we just get to the part where we kill you?”

He clicked his fingers with an icy smile. “I’m afraid that part never comes, Dean.”

Two huge guys appeared from behind, grappling momentarily to get the brother’s weapons away from them. Cas had taken Dean’s revolver for good luck this time, so aside from the small 9mm  tucked into the front of his boxers – which had earned him plenty of jokes from Cas, _‘is that a gun in your pants or are you just pleased to see me?’_ – which he was hoping that Pellegrino’s men wouldn’t search too in-depth for, he was totally unarmed.

“Have a seat.” He gestured to the chairs around the table.

“We’re good thanks.”

Pellegrino paused, studying Dean carefully. “Ah Dean, so full of bravado and bullshit, but underneath just a scared little boy.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “Really? We’re going to go down the psychobabble bullshit avenue. Wow, you really are a villain cliché.”

“It’s a trait I learned from Zachariah unfortunately.” He admitted coolly, tracing the rim of his glass with his index finger. “He always liked the sound of his own voice.”

Sam visibly tensed beside him. “Yeah, well I shot your precious Zachariah in the fucking head.”

“Oh I know, Sam.” He flashed a devious smile. “And you’ll pay for that. Though not as dearly as you will for killing Azazel. He always was my favourite firebug.”

_Holy fucking shit._

Azazel Lehne had been the head of the MC that had burned down their old Club House. With Sam’s beautiful girlfriend, Jess inside. Their retaliation was the thing that had put them both in jail. Where Dean met Alistair.

“What?” Sam exploded. “Azazel was working for you?”

“Of course.” He turned to Dean, now that he had effectively ruined Sam’s life with just a couple of carefully planned out sentences. “And let’s not forget you, Dean. That night you shot his son, Tom, so violently outside of the Roadhouse during a little reconnaissance for me, well that was just it. I got Alistair out to teach you a lesson. It’s not hard when you’re one of the most powerful men in the world. But you’ll pay for the death of Alistair too.” His blue eyes glinted dangerously, and Dean was fighting every urge to bolt away, to find Cas and make sure he was okay.

God fucking dammit, this asshole had been playing them for _years_.

“You killed my girlfriend.” Sam said lowly, voice scratchy and emotion-filled. “You killed her, and for fucking what? We’d never done anything to you!”

“Au contraire.” He replied conversationally. “I originally wanted your territory. You weren’t willing to back off.” He tsked softly, placing his glass down on the table. “Azazel was meant to send you a warning. Which he did, because he quite easily could have killed all of you, you know.”

Dean didn’t doubt it.

“So when you didn’t roll over and instead went after Azazel, I had to punish you further. Especially you Dean.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “Why me?”

“Because I don’t like you. You’re brash, disorganised and cocky. It’s an anathema to me. You needed to be put in your place.”

_Well, if that isn’t just the best reason to torture someone._

He chanced a look at Sammy who appeared utterly distraught and Dean’s heart went out to him. He’d adored Jess, was all set to marry her. “Why not just kill us? Why all this shit with Alistair and then Cas?”

“Because I like fucking with you.” His smile was too many teeth. “It makes me feel better to make you experience pain the way _you_ made Azazel and Alistair suffer by not just giving in to them. You may think it’s strength of character, but I think it shows weakness that you don’t know when you’re beaten. You don’t know when to throw in the towel. Like now for instance.”

Dean was almost scared to ask. “And Cas? Where does he come in to all this?”

Nick looked at Dean as one would a very simple first-grader. “Come on Dean. I’m trying to break you. You adore your precious angel. It was obvious without it being pointed out to me.”

The rat. Had to be. “Who pointed it out?”

“The same person who no doubt had you running around in circles with your heads cut off.”

Dean and Sam both remained silent.

“Oh.” Pellegrino looked genuinely surprised. “You really don’t know?” He nodded at the man behind Dean. “Go get him.”

For one heart-stopping moment – despite everything that had happened in the last few hours – Dean still had brief residual panic that they’d be dragging Cas into the board room, but instead, they got –

“Crowley? Oh you have got to be kidding me.”

“He had me by the bollocks, boys. You know how powerful he is. What the fuck was I supposed to do?” He was shoved down into the seat directly in front of the brothers and the guard took his place behind Dean again.

Pellegrino beamed. “Castiel was fun. You see, there was really only one of two ways it would go. Either he’d fall apart from the guilt of the kills, or with the messages I was sending, your little Neanderthal brain would jump to conclusions about his loyalty. I couldn’t have planned it better really, because both happened. I knew that MC rules state that tattle-tales have to be killed and I knew it would destroy you in a million and one different ways if you were the one to pull the trigger on your sweetheart." He sighed heavily. "Such simple creatures -"

Dean tensed, his whole body going completely rigid when he heard his boyfriend’s voice, shouting and swearing from behind the side door.

Pellegrino was still talking. “-break you. But being as you’re _weak_ this will have to do.”

And then, it _was_ Cas being dragged in, his eyes positively sparkling with defiance, and Dean was so fucking proud of the stupid stubborn bastard, but at the same time, he wanted him to cooperate, just for fucking once and maybe they’d all get out of this alive.

Though, it was staring to look less and less likely.

“Either way though, you still get to watch him die. Before I kill you both.” He flashed Dean a devious smile and then the guard that had a meaty hand gripped around Cas’s bicep tightly, handed a blade handle first to Pellegrino.

“I love you baby,” Cas smiled serenely, and Dean knew in that moment exactly what his boyfriend was planning.

“No!” Dean rushed forwards for Cas, only to feel a jarring jolt as the guard pulled him backwards, throwing an arm around his neck, almost throttling him, but Dean didn’t care, because an instant later the knife was plunged into Cas’s stomach and Dean was screaming at the top of his fucking lungs.

“CAS!”

Looking Dean in the eye, Pellegrino twisted the blade and then Cas was coughing up blood, his hands moving towards the wound. He stumbled slightly when the bastard yanked out the knife and threw it carelessly onto the table, up to the hilt slick with Cas’s blood.

_Fucking no._

“No no no no.” It wasn’t supposed to go like this. Cas was supposed be okay. He was always supposed to be okay.

Three things happened in quick succession; Crowley was out of his chair, shooting the guard holding Cas and then the ones behind Sam and Dean; and then Dean was bolting towards his boyfriend who was still barely standing up, and finally-

The final shot that echoed throughout the room startled them all. Mostly Pellegrino, who now had a bullet wound between his eyes, oozing blood.

Cas was holding Dean’s revolver at his hip, pointed directly at Nick still. “Fucking deadeye.”

“Cas!” Dean reached his boyfriend, not giving a shit about Pellegrino’s back up men bursting into the room – Crowley and Sam were taking good care of them – dropping to his knees in time to catch Cas slumping to the ground.

“Baby, no, no, no. You cannot do this to me Cas.”

“Can and am.” Cas whispered with the faintest of smiles on his lips, eyelids fluttering shut and Dean didn’t even try to stem the panic clawing at his heart, threatening to split his fucking soul in two as he cradled his boyfriend in his arms.

He managed to choke out a tearful laugh at Cas’s words.

_Defiant until the very fucking end._


	11. Epilogue - Renegade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title is a song by Styx.
> 
> Okay, so final chapter. I seriously wanna thank everyone who has read, commented, kudos'd, subscribed or bookmarked any of the stories or the series. When I found the first couple of chapters that I wrote a while back and just posted them, I genuinely had no idea if they were any good or not and I certainly had no idea of where the story was going; so it has just been me making it up as I go and hoping that it comes out okay!
> 
> I really hope that you guys enjoy this chapter. And thank you all; it's been awesome.

The gravestone was small, away from all the others, unnecessary because of the cremation, but Dean had wanted somewhere to come and visit when he needed some peace and quiet and – shrouded by trees with a bench nearby – it was perfect. He’d spent many an hour here in the past year, just sitting and _being_. Taking the time out to appreciate the little things.

Today though – on the anniversary – he stood staring down at the headstone, memories threatening to overwhelm and consume him.

“I’m so fucking sorry; I’ll never be able to say it enough. I should have done more to protect you; it’s my fault you’re dead. I miss you every fuckin’ day.” A small smile flittered across Dean’s face, masking the pain for a moment. “Hell, the whole Club misses you.”

He heard the tell-tale signs of someone approaching from behind him and then felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Dean, come on. Time to do the drop. Don’t wanna keep the Vamps waiting.”

Dean smiled softly, not turning around. “Sure thing VP. Be right there.”

There was an awkward pause as the hand tightened and the air between them shifted slightly. “It wasn’t your fault y’know.”

Dean let out a bitter laugh. “Of course not.”

A sigh of impatience, then Dean was being forcefully turned to face his recently appointed Vice President, being as Sammy was now permanently out of the Club. Dean had to grant him that after everything. After all, he hadn’t even taken time for his honeymoon, knowing that his wife was a month along at their wedding. They’d wanted to keep it quiet, because they’d lost a couple of little ones before the three month mark.

Luckily, Amelia was seven months gone now and she and Sam were busy filling every second with purchasing baby stuff. Of course, Dean had managed to get at least a _little_ involved; buying them a ridiculously expensive crib and way too many LMC babygros that he was assured the boy – or girl, but Dean _knew_ it was going to be a boy – would grow out of in a matter of damn weeks, but he didn’t care.

He was gonna be an uncle.

Well, they both were.

“God,” Cas muttered affectionately, sliding his arms around Dean’s neck. “You are quite the burning martyr aren’t you?”

Dean grinned, hooking his fingers into the belt loops of his boyfriend’s jeans and hauling him closer. “Yeah, but you love me.”

“Don’t make me regret it, Winchester.”

He leaned further into Cas’s space and brushed their lips together. “I fucking love you Cas.”

“I love you too Dean. So much.” He pulled away a little and nodded over Dean’s shoulder at Ash’s gravestone. “Can’t believe it was a year ago already.” At Dean’s morose nod, Cas changed tack. “I _definitely_ can’t believe I’ve put up with you for that long.”

Dean snorted a laugh. “Me either baby.”

“Remind me again why we didn’t do anything for our anniversary?”

“We did. You went to the hospital for the check up and then you came home, we ate pizza and got drunk and had awesome kitchen sex.”

Thankfully, three and a bit months on, Cas’s obligatory hospital visits were down to virtually none, but the blade of Pellegrino’s knife had done more than its fair share of tissue and organ damage and it had been a damn slow recovery.

Kneeling there on the floor of that fucking building, Dean had thought that he really was never going to see Cas again and nothing in his entire life had ever hurt more. It was a moment that he’d relived over and over in his nightmares as he drifted in and out of sleep in the hospital chair next to Cas’s bed, whilst he waited for his boyfriend to regain consciousness.

But as usual, he’d underestimated his Cas; something he was finally starting to learn not to do.

His Cas was so fucking _strong_ and such a fucking stubborn asshole that he just would not die, despite Pellegrino’s best efforts.

He fought the goddamned Devil and won.

He was Dean’s fucking hero.

Cas’s eyes glazed over at the memory, and the mischievous smile that Dean loved so much, slowly spread across his lips. “Oh _yeah._ That was some good sex.”

“S’always good sex with me baby,” Dean tried for flirty and winked lasciviously, but Cas just tilted his head back and chuckled.

“So we’re conveniently forgetting the time that nearly got ourselves crushed under our bikes, or that time when you wanted to try figging, or-“

Dean felt his cheeks start to get slightly hot with embarrassment at the memory. He’d never look at ginger in the same way. “Yeah yeah, alright. Mistakes were made. Lessons learned.”

“Is the great Dean Winchester _blushing_?”

“Fuck you.”

“What is it that you used to say to me? ‘Later, twinkie’?” Cas smirked, apparently pleased with himself and patted Dean on the ass, stepping away from the embrace.

“You’re an asshole.”

“ _’Yeah, but you love me._ ’” He blew Dean a kiss, walking backwards a few feet with that fucking sexy smirk on his face until he smoothly turned around and made his way over to where their bikes were parked side by side. Dean watched as Cas straddled his bike and he absolutely did  _not_  take the opportunity to check out his boyfriend’s ass. Well, maybe a little bit, but  _Holy shit what an ass._

“Stop looking at my ass and get a fucking move on!”

***

Dean had pretty much everything he wanted; a truce with Crowley – now having taken over all of Pellegrino’s ‘empire’. His first order of business was to reimburse the LMC for his part in any hardships they incurred. Which amounted to a fair amount of money, being as he’d jerked them about _quite_ a bit over those nine months.

Not that Dean could really blame him for playing both sides; it was smart. Dean just wished that he’d realised what the bastard was up to before the eleventh fucking hour.

Sammy was happy; he was married with a baby on the way – forever the smart one compared to Dean – he got his happy ending; his white picket fence. He got out of the life.

The Club was thriving; regular deals with the Vamps, and the DBMC were just starting to rebuild with Lee’s brother – who turned out to be just as much of a legend as his sibling. The money was good and pretty low heat, which Dean was eternally thankful for.

But the best fucking part? This right here. Riding on the open road with Cas; his boyfriend, his VP, his partner, his other broken half, his hero, alongside him on that fucking abomination of a bike.

Cas caught his eye and smirked, before revving his bike into high gear, pulling out directly in front of Dean, leaning over the handlebars  a little more than was strictly necessary,  so that Dean had a perfect view of the play of muscles in his boyfriends back and _that tight ass_.

Then Cas sent him a wink over his shoulder and Dean was totally fucking _gone_.

 

***

 

And as for the Bert and Ernie thing?

…

…

Well, maybe they were just friends after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's it!
> 
> I'd be lying to you guys and myself if I said that I wasn't already thinking of cute little fluffy fics to accompany this at some point, so periodically there may be one-shot fluff/smut-fests appearing out of nowhere.
> 
> I have also been working on another AU fic, that is just pure self indulgence as it's based on my favourite film, Snatch. The first part of that will probably be up in a few days, so if you're interested in a different kind of BAMFy Cas (For those who have seen Snatch; Mickey without the Pikeyness) then feel free to check it out. It's gonna be called, 'Lock, Stock & Two Smokin' Winchesters'.
> 
> Thanks again. I love you guys! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Quick Disclaimer:
> 
> I have no idea what El Dorado Correctional Facility is actually like, as I have never been, but I am sure that it's not run by Dick Roman. 
> 
> Also, for those who don't know who Dennis Rader is, he's BTK. And he's really incarcerated there.


End file.
